Friendship or Foreplay
by violette7
Summary: Brian and Justin meet as children, become best friends and later roommates, and are secretly in love with each other. B/J, Mikey, Ben, Brandon, Em, Ted, and Daphne are all friends of the same age, 21. Lindsay and Mel are friends, too, but older, 30.
1. Chapter 1: Our Morning Routine

A/N: In this story, Brian and Justin live in a loft similar to Brian's on the show, though not as nice, and it has two bedrooms. In addition, I changed Daphne's orientation. I borrowed the story's name from an advertisement for the L-Word.

I woke up to the sound of Justin's voice, as I did every morning, warmly greeting whatever trick I'd fucked the night before and offering him coffee. I waited until I heard Rob…Rick…whatever the fuck his name was politely refusing and the loft door close. Then I started to get up, but, before I had, Justin was in bed with me, handing me a cup of coffee.

He teased, "So…tell me…was he a good fuck? He has a great ass!"

I chuckled, set my coffee mug on the end table, and flipped Justin onto his stomach. I slapped his ass and commented wryly, "Yours is better."

Then I climbed on top of him and drawled, "If you want to know what it would be like to be with me, all you need do is ask. I'd gladly give you a test drive."

Justin wriggled out from under me and sat up. He laughed. "No, thanks. You're not my type."

I scoffed, "I'm everyone's type."

I let myself fall back onto the bed. "But you aren't really mine. I don't generally do virgins."

Justin blushed, as I hoped he would. I loved making him blush. He complained, "I am not a virgin!"

"Blow jobs don't count."

Justin turned a deeper shade of red. He snapped defensively, "Fuck you, Brian! Just because I don't whore around like you do doesn't mean that I'm celibate. Now get your ass up. Mikey's probably already waiting for us at the diner."

In a falsetto, I replied, "Yes, dear…"

Justin rolled his eyes and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

I nearly ran to the shower, so eager was I to relieve myself of the hard on Justin had inspired. I'd already lost my morning wood when Justin climbed into bed with me, but slapping his ass and climbing on top of him had reawakened my cock. I remembered his plump cherry-red lips, his luscious ass, and his sparkling blue eyes, flashing with anger and annoyance in response to my teasing. Soon I was cumming in long white spurts, biting my lip to stifle the full body moan dying to escape and shuddering as my orgasm ripped through me. I'd never admit it to any living being, but these morning masturbation sessions, always spurred by contact with Justin, were much more intense and fulfilling than sex of any kind with anyone else.

Justin was the person I wanted more than anyone else in the world, and the one person I could never have. He was my roommate and best friend. We'd been inseparable since we were 10, when he moved into my neighborhood. We'd met at a playground at the end of his street the day he arrived. Soon after, in that silly way kids do, we'd promised we'd be best friends forever. I had no doubt we always would be.

When we were 14 and just realizing that we were gay, Justin was the first boy to give me a hard on. I jerked off to thoughts of him almost every morning that year. That was around the time we met Mikey. We'd heard about Liberty Avenue and had snuck away from our group on a field trip to a nearby museum to check it out. We'd wandered for hours, watching the strange people walking along the street and staring at the strange clothes and objects in the store windows. We'd finally ended up at the Liberty Diner, sharing fries slathered in gravy (just the way Justin liked them). That's where we'd met Mikey. He'd been our third "musketeer" ever since.

We'd both grown close to Mikey, but we were never as close to him as we were to each other. When we were 16, Justin had begged me to run away with him. He could no longer stand seeing me come to school with black eyes and bruises. Every time, his eyes filled with tears he never let fall, though he always claimed his watery eyes were just an allergic reaction to some thing or another. And truly, pollen, dust, dander, you name it, he was allergic to it. So when we'd decided to leave home, we'd never thought to invite Mikey, a fact Mikey later lamented, though he begrudgingly agreed that he'd had the best home life of the three of us. Justin and I had been roommates ever since.

It was summer when we ran away. We'd started working at the diner full time during the day and had slept huddled together in a park near Liberty Avenue at night. Debbie, Mikey's mom and owner of the diner, had let us shower at her house every morning and had even offered to let us stay with her. We'd declined her offer. We'd never told Mikey about it. He would have been so hurt if he knew. Fortunately, we'd met Lindsay and her partner Mel that same summer. Mel had just passed the bar and offered to help us become emancipated. So come fall, we'd been able to enroll in Mikey's high school.

In August of that summer, knowing that it would soon grow too cold for us to sleep in the park, I'd begun looking for a second job. That's when I met Brandon. He was a hustler. When he'd told me that he regularly brought in three hundred bucks a night, I'd started going with him. In very short order, Justin and I had saved enough money for an apartment. After we'd started school, Justin'd switched to nights at the diner, and I'd quit. Justin'd had no idea that I'd been hustling before then. He'd only realized after I quit the diner. We'd never talked about it, but I knew he'd figured it out because he crawled into bed with me every night after that, holding me in his arms, nuzzling my neck, and trying not to cry.

In November, Mel'd suddenly offered me a paid internship at her law firm. This was a huge surprise because she was never very fond of me, but she claimed that she thought I had great potential and wanted to help me achieve it. It was a shit job; I was a glorified errand boy, but it paid as well as hustling, so I quit. Justin was beaming when she asked me and quickly looked away when my eyes met his. I later learned that Justin had asked Mel to find me a job and had written an incredible letter of interest on my behalf stating that I'd always been fascinated by the law and was filled with the altruistic urge to promote justice everywhere and defend those who could not defend themselves. A beautifully written piece of bullshit.

I'd later returned the favor by showing Lindsay some of Justin's artwork. She'd offered him a job at her gallery, and he'd quit the diner. He still worked there, and I still worked at Mel's law firm, though I'd become a paralegal since then. Now 21, Justin was attending the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts on a scholarship, and I was attending Carnegie Mellon, preparing for law school. Mel's law firm was even footing the bill.

Justin tapped his foot impatiently as I began tying my tie. After a minute watching me fumble with it, he swung me around so that I was facing him and dexterously maneuvered the two ends until he'd formed a perfect Windsor knot. Then he helped me into the jacket of my only Armani suit, a present he'd given me after he'd sold his first painting, and pushed me out the door.

When we entered the Liberty Diner, we were greeted by a pouting Mikey and an impassive and disheveled, but still very attractive Brandon, who had clearly come directly from work, as he wore skin-tight black leather pants and a slightly loose, half-buttoned-down red silk shirt. He'd graduated from street walker to high-class hustler, now servicing only the very wealthy. They were sitting across from each other, but when Mikey saw us come in, he moved to sit next to Brandon. Justin and I always sat next to each other at the diner, and everyone knew it.

Mikey complained, "You guys are late! I've been here for an hour already."

I just shrugged, but Justin gave him a compassionate look and replied, "Sorry, Mikey." Then he laughed and nudged me. "Studly here didn't want to get out of bed."

I quirked an eyebrow and mouthed, "Studly?"

Justin just giggled and slid into the booth. I joined him.

Debbie gave our orders to the cook (we ordered the same thing every day; I always had raisin toast, and Justin, two eggs, bacon, wheat toast, and home fries, well done with extra onions) and then brought us coffee.

Mikey asked excitedly, "Did you have a hot trick in your bed distracting you?"

I glanced over at Justin, who was engrossed in adding milk and sugar to his coffee. He looked a little like a mad scientist. I couldn't help but smile. When he was done with the sugar, he absentmindedly slid it my way. "A hot guy, but not a trick," I thought. I took the dispenser and added sugar to my coffee as I replied, "You should ask Brandon about his tricks. His may be trolls, but, sometimes, they're famous."

Mikey turned to Brandon expectantly.

Brandon countered, "They aren't always trolls. Some of the closet cases are hot and famous."

Mikey rubbed his hands together. "Any of those last night?"

I chuckled. Mikey had to be one of the horniest guys I knew (well, besides me). The difference, of course, was that I could get laid any time I wanted. Mikey, on the other hand, lived vicariously through Brandon and me and sometimes Emmett. Speaking of the devil, Emmett walked in. Swished in was more like it. I'd never met a more effeminate gay man. He was wearing a hot pink crop top and tight blue jeans. His shirt hung off one shoulder, giving him a Jennifer Beals Flashdance look.

He slid into an adjacent booth (on Mikey and Brandon's side) so that his back was against the wall and his legs on the seat and leaned his head on his arm, which was resting on the top of the booth.

Seeing Emmett, Justin asked eagerly, "So what happened last night with that beefy hunk you were talking to at Babylon?"

Emmett smiled mysteriously and declared, "Ladies don't kiss and tell."

Just then, Debbie arrived with our food. She laughed. "Ladies don't suck one man's dick while being fucked in the ass by another man, either. Especially not in a bathroom stall. What's your point?"

Emmett blushed. "Oh you heard about that?"

Debbie scoffed, "Heard about it? No. I heard it. I heard all that moaning and grunting with my own ears. Hell, I think people in Timbuktu heard it."

Everyone but Emmett burst out laughing, even nearby patrons who didn't know him.

Ted, who'd entered the diner in the middle of Debbie and Emmett's exchange, slid into the booth opposite Emmett.

He prodded, "So what did happen between you and muscleman?"

Before Emmett answered, Justin whispered to me, "This bacon is fan-fucking-tastic! You have to try some!" and moved to feed me a piece. I smiled and opened my mouth. Only Justin could take such liberties.

Emmett smiled. "He fucked me all night with his 3-inch thick, 8-inch-long cock. I'm so sore!"

Suddenly, Daphne emerged from the throng of people milling about. She wrinkled her nose and cried, "Yuck! Do you have to give such graphic detail? Maybe I should talk about my lovers' clits when they are all slick with saliva and slightly swollen…or how soft and warm my lovers feel inside when I'm fingering them…"

All of us, me, Justin, Brandon, Mikey, Emmett, and Ted closed our eyes and turned away (in one quick motion), making an "Oh!" sound (indicating that Daphne's description was gross and just wrong).

Daphne giggled and took the chair Debbie had brought over for her, placing it at the front of the booth with me, Justin, Brandon, and Mikey in it.

Emmett threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay. We get it! No more graphic detail in mixed company. But, in my defense, I didn't realize you were here already."

Mikey agreed. "Yeah! That was totally unfair!"

Justin lamented, "I can't even eat anymore! And that was the best bacon I've had in a week!"

I nodded and rubbed his shoulder. "It really was delicious."

Daphne just smiled.

Looking over at poor nauseous Justin, I couldn't help but smile. This morning was, thus far, a morning like every other for the last few years. We'd all fallen into a pleasant routine. I slid my arm along the top of the booth behind Justin. He unconsciously moved a little closer to me.

Just after that thought had passed through my mind, however, something unusual happened. A young man about Justin's height with a mess of brown curly hair and a dreadful goti approached our table. My eyes widened when I saw that he was smiling at someone. I followed the line of his gaze, but I didn't need to. I knew he was smiling at Justin.

He said, "Hi, Justin" in what I assume he thought a sultry voice. I looked on in horror as I saw Justin flush with pleasure.

He replied a little shyly, "Hi, Ethan."

Ethan glared at me and asked Justin uncomfortably, "Is he your boyfriend?"

Then Justin said something that made me more nauseous than all Daphne's vagina talk over the years put together. "No, he's just a friend. My best friend."

_Just????_


	2. Chapter 2: The Boy Is Mine

I knew that people other than me and Justin still existed, were still here: Brandon, Mikey, Emmett, Debbie, Daphne, Ted, and a diner full of unknown patrons. But I couldn't see or hear much beyond Justin. I was going crazy. Justin was chatting with Ethel…Ian…whatever the fuck his name was at the counter. I was trying hard not to glance in their direction, but I could hear Justin's laughter and ratboy's coarse, grating drawl. They were talking about a performance of ratboy's that Justin had apparently attended. I rolled my eyes when Justin complimented him. ("You play with such passion. Your performance was amazing!") I nearly gagged when Ethel replied, "What can I say, you inspire me." I couldn't stop myself from turning in their direction. I needed to know how Justin reacted. When I saw him blush, I lost it. Justin's blushes were for me and me alone.

I managed to stand and approach them calmly, but once I reached Justin's side, I did something that I'd wanted to do for seven years, something I'd told myself was never allowed. I drew Justin (by the waist) roughly against me (Justin's eyes widened in astonishment), moved my hands up to caress his cheeks (Justin's breathing grew ragged), and then sent my lips crashing down onto his.

With little prelude, I plunged my tongue into his mouth, kissing him hungrily, desperately exploring every crevice. At first, Justin didn't respond. He stood there frozen, probably in shock, but he did not push me away, either in anger, slapping me, or in discomfort, training pity-filled eyes on mine, as I feared he might. And then, he did the unimaginable…he kissed me back.

Bolder now (none of my tricks could have claimed that I was shy, but Justin, well, he was different), I slid my hands down to his luscious ass, the ass that had inspired so many morning jerk-off sessions, squeezed it, and pulled him closer. Then I ground my cock (it was painfully erect and dripping with precum) against his, which, I noted with pleasure and surprise, was as hard as a rock. He moaned softly in my mouth and kissed me more deeply, while also throwing his arms around my neck.

I wanted to carry him off to the bathroom, push him back against a wall, rip his clothes off…suck his cock until he was panting, moaning, and then crying out with release, spin him around, rim him until he was hard again, and then drive my cock inside him, fucking him slow and deep, alternately rotating my hips and thrusting sinuously, all the while sucking on the back of his neck, nibbling on his ear, and caressing his skin…experiencing him with every sense. I wanted to fill him up and push him over the edge a thousand times in a thousand different ways. But I couldn't. Justin wasn't someone I could fuck in a bathroom, certainly not the first time.

When I eventually broke our kiss, I pulled back a little, but still held him in my arms. His eyes were half-lidded with desire, his skin flushed, and his lips swollen. I don't think he'd ever looked more beautiful to me. Ethel commented coldly, "Well, I guess a date is out of the question" and left so quickly, with such anger, that he sent a stool spinning. It creaked and groaned. Justin didn't seem to have heard him. He just gazed into my eyes. I nudged his nose gently, placed a tender peck on his lips, and then dove back in, kissing him even more passionately. I had no idea what would come next or why Justin had kissed me back. In fact, I was both too afraid and too distracted to wonder. Instead, I simply savored the softness of Justin's lips, his scent, and the feel of his skin (and his hard cock) against mine. I'd worry about what I'd potentially wrecked, Justin's motivation, and the future of our 'friendship' later.


	3. Chapter 3: Maybe Not

I was sitting at my desk in the living room, trying to edit a legal brief for Mel, but I couldn't concentrate. Earlier that day, I'd kissed Justin. Twice actually. He'd ended the second kiss abruptly and run out of the diner without so much as a word. All of our friends had stared at me in shock as I'd watched him flee. I'd soon followed, muttering something about class. Now I was staring out the window, flipping the pen in my hand, waiting for Justin to return home. His last class for the day had ended thirty minutes ago now. It shouldn't be long.

And indeed, it wasn't. A few minutes later, Justin walked in. He looked distracted and anxious. I stood up and approached him hesitantly. After thinking about it all day, I hadn't figured out what to say or do. The truth is, that would all depend on Justin. As it turns out, I didn't have to say a word. Justin started speaking (and very quickly) a second after the loft door slid shut. He paced as he talked, and, try as I might, I couldn't catch his eye. He seemed to be avoiding not only my eyes but also my body, remaining at least ten feet away from me at all times.

"Okay…as I see it, the reason for what happened this morning could be any one of four possibilities, well, probably one of two, the other two can't be, I mean they could, but I really don't think that they are, I mean, fuck, I hope they aren't."

After pausing to breathe, he continued, in a trembling voice, "One…you believe I'm still a virgin and want to fuck me before anyone else can…this is the first time you've met someone who's interested. But I don't think you could think so little of me...like I was a trophy, not a person."

Justin stubbornly refused to look at me, even though not knowing my reaction was probably killing him. Maybe he just didn't want me to see that he'd developed a mild case of allergies.

"Two…you don't like Ethan, for whatever reason, and hoped to prevent me from dating him by making me think you were, you know, interested in me yourself."

Justin shook his head and stammered, "But…but, I don't, I don't think you'd hurt me like that…not for some petty vendetta."

"Three…you're afraid that if I start dating someone, you'll lose your place in my life."

Finally, Justin lifted his head until his eyes met mine. He looked scared.

He assured me, "But you don't need to worry about that, I mean, you'll always be my best friend. My dating someone wouldn't change anything."

For a split second, I considered lying to him. Telling him that he'd hit the nail on the head. But I'd wanted him for too long. Way too long. And I was the type of person who always pursued what he wanted. So I decided to risk everything. I rolled my lips into my mouth for a moment, never once breaking eye contact, and asked calmly, "What's number four?"

Justin paled. He swallowed hard. "Four…you really have romantic feelings for me, feelings that you only became aware of when you saw me with Ethan."

Evenly, I responded, "No."

Justin closed his eyes for a moment and then looked down. But when I explained, "I've known for a long time," his head shot back up. For a full minute, he just gaped at me. Then he asked, in a voice so small that it made my chest ache, "You really like me, I mean, as more than a friend?"

I continued to look directly into his eyes and nodded slowly.

His face flushed and his breathing shallow, Justin asked, "How, how long?"

I hesitated, but finally answered, "Seven years."

Justin cried out, "Oh God!" He shook his head and stared into space, looking both desolate and disgusted. Then he asked softly, "If you had feelings for me, how could you fuck other men…so many other men…with me in the next room?"

I don't know how, but I managed to reply evenly, "They never meant anything to me."

He looked at me in horror. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He turned away and shook his head. "No. No. No. We can't…I can't do this. Not after I…no."

I inquired, "Not after you what?"

When Justin didn't answer, I moved closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. I thought for sure he'd shrug it off, but he didn't. Instead, he turned and looked up at me, his eyes filled with fear and vulnerability. Then he asked, "Could you be faithful? Would you want to be? You regularly fuck so many others, and you claim that you don't do…well that you don't fuck inexperienced people…How could I ever be enough for you?"

I smiled softly and drawled, "Does that mean you like me?"

Justin laughed and shook his head. "Yes, I like you."

I caressed his cheek gently and, my voice husky, asked "So despite what you said, I am your type?"

Justin looked down and nodded slowly, as if contemplating something.

"And you want me?"

Justin's face flushed once more, and his breathing again grew shallow.

He croaked, "Yes."

I leaned closer, and, my voice just above a whisper, I asked, "Does anything else matter?"

He gazed at me as though hypnotized and shook his head. Then I placed a tender kiss on his lips.

He didn't pull away.


	4. Chapter 4: Terms

Before I could kiss him in earnest, Justin pulled away and took two huge steps back. Then, in a voice he struggled to keep even, he said, "Look, Brian. I want to be with you, but I can't do this yet."

"This?"

Justin blushed. "I can't have sex with you yet."

I sighed, but then nodded.

"What are the rules?"

Justin's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

I declared flatly, holding his gaze, "I like fucking, and I've wanted to fuck you for seven years. You need to give me boundaries."

Justin flushed with, I imagine, both pleasure and embarrassment. A little shyly, he asked, "Like what?"

I inquired, my voice solemn, "Can I suck your cock? Will you suck mine? Is there a hand job policy? What about phone sex? Can I french you?"

Justin laughed.

I shot him a tongue-in-cheek expression and purred, "Will you show me yours if I show you mine?"

Then, in a completely serious voice, I added, "The water bill is kind of high. We could save money if we showered together."

In response, he muttered, "I could use a cold one right about now."

Then, suddenly, his face took on a sad expression. He whispered, "All of this is moot if you can't be faithful…"

He looked up at me and asked, in a trembling voice, "Can you?"

I didn't even blink. I replied with a question: "Am I your boyfriend?"

Justin nibbled on his thumbnail cutely for a moment, but then answered, "Yes."

"Then I can be faithful. But that makes you responsible for my sexual needs. If we can't fuck, you'll have to come across in some other way, and often."

Justin blushed and nodded. "Okay. Can we work up to sex slowly?"

I frowned. "You're asking me to give up an awful lot…"

Justin giggled. "Uh oh…future attorney-at-law Kinney has his game face on…"

I nodded slowly. "You bet your sweet ass I do. Sex is no laughing matter. Not for me."

"Okay, what are your terms? What must I do to get you to be faithful and go without sex until I'm ready to fuck you…"

I raised an eyebrow.

Justin blushed. "You know what I mean…."

I declared flatly, "Well, Mr. Taylor, I would require you to participate in no less than two of my orgasms per day."

"Participate?"

I stated firmly, "Yes. It doesn't matter how, as long as there is a clear progression toward sex as time passes. For example, early on, in fact, right now would work, you could inspire me by removing your clothing, slowly, very slowly, and touching yourself. Later, you could initiate a hot make-out session and then lick, suck, and nibble on my neck while I jerk off. Eventually, however, and I hope in short order, I'd want you to jerk me off yourself, allowing me to do the same for you, and, then shortly after that, suck my cock and allow me to suck yours."

I drew nearer to Justin, who was now flushed and breathing heavily. I drawled, "Course, we could skip all that and get right down to the cock-sucking part. You look like you could use a good blow job, and I give the best."

Justin interjected, taking the wind out of my sails, "What about dating?"

I just blinked.

Justin smiled brightly. "I would require you, Mr. Kinney, to come across, too, taking me on no less than two dates per week."

I exhaled heavily. "Two dates per week, no tricking, and no blond boy ass?"

Justin nodded firmly.

"I won't lie…that's gonna cost you."

"Name your price."

"You'll need to facilitate three of my orgasms per day, no excuses allowed, not even if you're tired, and if you expect to be able to trot me out in front of clients/professors or friends at functions or on double dates, or otherwise domesticate me further, you're gonna need to give it up."

Justin giggled. "Give it up?"

Raising both eyebrows, I nodded. "The ass."

Then I pulled him into my arms and added, "and several times a day, no less than twice, but maybe as often as five times."

Justin exclaimed, "Wow! That's a lot!"

I shrugged. "I like fucking, and I've wanted to fuck you for seven years…"

Then I leaned my cheek against his and breathed, "Trust me, you won't be complaining."

I could feel Justin's face grow hot and heard him swallowing hard.


	5. Chapter 5: Secrets and Confessions, 1

Daphne, Mikey, and Justin were having dinner (pizza) at Daphne's apartment. Much to Brian's chagrin, shortly after they'd negotiated terms, Justin ran out the door, informing him that he'd promised to have dinner with Mikey and Daphne, but would be back in a few hours.

Mikey asked incredulously, "Brian's your boyfriend now?"

Justin smiled shyly and nodded.

Mikey's eyes grew wide. He rubbed his hands together and asked, "Did you fuck him?"

Justin shook his head.

Mikey's eyes dilated so much that they nearly enveloped his entire face.

"Why the hell not? He's gorgeous! Don't you want to sleep with him?"

Justin blushed bright red and giggled. "Of course I do!"

"Then I don't get it."

Justin exclaimed, "First of all, we've only been boyfriends for an hour, and I've spent most of that hour with you two."

Daphne chuckled. "That begs the question…why the hell are you here with us when you could be fucking Brian? I mean, I'm not attracted to men, but even I can see that he's hot!"

Justin stammered, "I…I've…never..."

Mikey and Daphne looked at him expectantly, but when Justin remained silent, both inclined their heads in Justin's direction, urging him to continue.

Justin shook his head furiously. He stated firmly, "Never mind."

Try as they might in the next two hours, they couldn't get Justin to say anything more.

*******

Brian was confused. Justin claimed to like him and had indicated that he wanted Brian to be his boyfriend, but the moment he was, Justin had fled. Remembering the terrified look on Justin's face, Brian frowned. It was like Justin couldn't get away fast enough. He couldn't understand. All he knew was that he needed a drink or three. He grabbed his leather jacket and headed for Woody's.

*******

Justin entered the loft hesitantly, poking his head through the door and looking around before entering. When he didn't see Brian, he relaxed a little and walked inside, heading for his bedroom. Brian emerged from the shadows in front of Justin, causing him to jump nearly a foot.

"Oh my God, Brian! You scared me! Have you been drinking? You smell like a distillery!"

Brian shrugged. "I might have indulged in a cocktail or two at a gentleman's club…"

He stared at Justin for a moment, but then turned away abruptly and swung himself around a pillar and toward the couch with one hand, finally tossing himself on it. Justin temporarily lost the ability to breathe. Brian was half-sitting, half-leaning on one side of the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, grinning at Justin, his hypnotic hazel eyes trained on him, dancing and twinkling. Even drunk off his ass, Brian was the most beautiful man Justin had ever seen or imagined.

Brian drawled, "That seems to be what I do."

This strange statement brought Justin back to reality. Eyes wide, he asked. "What?"

Brian singsonged softly (to the tune of "You Are My Sunshine"), "Scare Sunshine away."

Justin furrowed his brow. "Sunshine?"

Brian laughed. "That's you."

"You never call me that."

Brian shrugged. "Not out loud. But that's what I call you in my head." He pointed to his head comically.

But Justin didn't laugh. Instead, he flushed with pleasure. He asked shyly, "You do? Since when?"

Brian mulled this over. "Mmmm…since a few years ago…when you started crawling into bed with me. You shoulda never stopped. It woulda kept other people out…plus, I always slept better with you in my bed…"

Brian's voice grew husky (and a little growl-y) at the end, sending a deliciously warm shiver throughout Justin's body.

He patted the couch and purred, "Com'ere."

Justin suddenly felt hot all over. He couldn't move, not even if his life depended on it.

Seeing Justin's terrified expression and wide eyes, Brian frowned. He snapped, "What the fuck, Justin? This morning you sat next to me, an inch away, and you weren't shy or scared."

He sighed. Then he continued, much more softly, "I would never hurt you or do anything you didn't want me to do. You used to know that. But what? Now that you know I'm in love with you, suddenly you're afraid to come near me?"

Justin didn't respond for a full minute. He was still overwhelmed by desire and fear. Finally, what Brian had admitted sunk in. Justin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Shyly he asked, "You're in love with me?"

Realizing that he'd said too much, Brian paled and stood up fast, so fast that he nearly toppled over. He turned to leave.

Justin cried out, "Wait!"


	6. Chapter 6: Secrets and Confessions, 2

I cried out, "Wait!"

Brian stopped, but then just stood there facing away from me. My heart fell. I knew I had been acting crazy ever since he'd kissed me that morning. I knew it was unfair, but I…I just couldn't help it.

I sighed.

Brian had assumed that I'd fooled around with other people before, just stopping short of fucking, but he was wrong. Dead wrong. I'd never even kissed anyone, that is, not until that morning. Sure, I'd been attracted to other guys, though they were few. But when it came right down to it, no matter how many other guys I'd seen Brian take into his room and heard him fucking, I just couldn't touch anyone else or let anyone else touch me. None of them were Brian. Not even close, and he was all I really wanted. I'd been madly in love with him since, well, probably since we met, even though I didn't understand my feelings then. It wasn't until I was 14 that I realized why being around Brian made me feel all tingly and breathless. Thinking that Brian had feelings for me, wanted me, since way back then made me so angry that I could…could kick puppies, or cry. If only…if only…if only…I was plagued by if onlys.

So what was holding me back now?

Everything.

I was so afraid of losing Brian completely or of irrevocably changing our relationship, and not for the better. I was also afraid of what being Brian's boyfriend would do to my sanity. Could I handle the fact that Brian had spent the last four years whoring around? With people I saw every day? Could I handle the fact that all gay men…who am I kidding, that all gay and bisexual men and all heterosexual women wanted him? That some would do anything, and I mean anything, to have the opportunity of being fucked by him? Could I even please him? The fact that Brian had wanted me so long just increased my anxiety. What if I was a terrible lover? I didn't want to disappoint Brian, but how could I not after he'd been with hundreds, maybe a thousand, others? What if I came the second he touched my cock? The way he made me feel…it could happen. And what if he only thought he loved me? What if his feelings disappeared after his desire was sated?

After what seemed like an eternity, Brian turned around. He looked at me, his eyes glazed over and his face impassive, but said nothing.

I took a deep breath and then declared, "I'm not scared of you."

After a long pause, and in a smaller voice, I added, "Just scared."

Brian relaxed a bit (he'd been holding himself rigid), and his eyes softened. He opened his mouth to speak, but I closed the distance between us in a heartbeat and placed a finger on his lips.

Fuck.

Being this near to Brian caused my body to tremble. I looked up at him and swallowed hard. His eyes burned into me. I could feel the heat of his gaze everywhere. I was suddenly certain that my desire would literally consume me if I didn't do…something.

So I pulled Brian back to the couch, pushed him so that he was sitting down, and straddled him, moaning softly the second my painfully erect cock touched his. Brian immediately slid his arms up my back and drew me closer…and closer…until our lips were a hair's breadth apart.

I started to pant. I felt so dizzy. Brian growled then and moved his hands to my neck. He was gentler now (than he had been that morning). He brushed his lips against mine, traced my lower lip with his tongue, and then nibbled on it. He pressed his lips against mine before slowly thrusting his tongue into my mouth. Then he kissed me slow and deep, occasionally pulling back and allowing our lips to mingle.

After several minutes of this delicious torture, Brian let out an inhuman groan and pulled me to him roughly, ravishing my lips and my mouth, plunging his tongue in so quickly but deep, kissing me urgently, like we might never have another. I kissed him back, as before, trying to mimic his movements and pace, but I felt like I was along for the ride.

Unexpectedly, Brian swiveled us to the right, pushed me down onto the couch, and climbed on top of me. He slid his hands underneath me, grabbing my ass, squeezing it, and then using it to pull me closer, to grind our cocks together. I moaned. Loudly. Then he breathed in my ear, "Let me suck your dick."

I groaned. I couldn't breathe, tingly shivers were crawling up and down my spine and spreading throughout my body, and my heart stubbornly refused to beat.

When I recovered enough to speak, I stammered, "Not yet…I…I can't."

But I slid my hands down his body…his long slender neck, his strong, perfectly muscled back, and then his ass. I moaned softly as I ran my hands over it slow and then squeezed it, inadvertently pushing his pelvis, and his rock hard cock, against mine. I started panting again and begged, "Don't move. Okay. Don't…move…"

Then I began rocking my body against his. I shut my eyes and bit my lip. Everything was warm and melty and perfect. The feel of Brian's weight on my body, his scent, the sound of his breathing… Heaven never seemed closer. Just as I was reaching the edge, my orgasm looming on the horizon, I stopped. Suddenly embarrassed about what I'd almost done, I buried my face in Brian's neck.

He asked, his voice so warm and soft and incredibly sexy, "Why did you stop? (pause) I just want to make you feel good. If rubbing up against me does the trick, go with it."

I barely managed to squeak out, "Too embarrassing."

Brian swallowed hard (probably afraid I'd say no) and asked, "Can I suck on your neck?"

I couldn't speak, so I just nodded.

He started placing open-mouthed kisses down from my ear to my pulse point. Once there, he began sucking on my neck. Hard. I cried out, "Oh, fuck!"

Next, he moved to my lips, kissing me passionately. Then he squeezed my ass and started to grind against me.

I squeaked in protest, but he didn't stop. Instead, he broke our kiss and whispered, "Baby, come for me. Please."

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

With those five words, Brian gave me the release I so desperately needed. I held onto to him tight and buried my face in his neck, all the while my orgasm ripped through me, threatening to take my consciousness with it. A rolling wave of intense heat and tickly/tingly pleasure coursed through me, and not just once, but several times. I just kept on cumming.


	7. Chapter 7: Secrets and Confessions, 3

Justin pushed me off of him and jumped up. He couldn't even meet my eyes. He kept glancing away. All fidgety, he said, "Oh I should take a shower. I'm all gross now."

Still staring at him, I asked evenly, "Can I watch?"

Justin looked at me then, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He choked out, "What?"

I repeated, "Can I watch?"

Justin blushed and sputtered, "But…I…I mean, I'm just me."

I caressed his cheeks for a moment and then pulled him toward me. I gave him a soft smile and kissed his lips gently. Then I rubbed my cheek against his and breathed, "That's the point, Sunshine. You're you…beautiful…and smoking hot."

I could feel his cheek grow warm beneath mine.

He pulled away and shook his head, all the while staring at the floor. He stammered, "I've seen some of the men you've brought home…all tan and buff, muscled and thin…but me…"

I was suddenly, unaccountably, angry. I snapped, "Don't compare yourself to them!"

Startled, Justin looked up quickly. His eyes were still wide, but now his mouth was open a little. Even confused and a little frightened, he was gorgeous. That took the edge out of my voice. I continued, no longer angry but firm, "None of them meant anything to me. None of them could ever compare to you."

Justin was quite literally taken aback. He just stared at me, stunned.

My voice husky, I explained, "I always wanted you. If I'd known…I would've given anything…"

I had sobered up for the most part, but I must still have been a little inebriated (or something) because I was suddenly incapable of articulating a complete thought.

Justin approached and reached out to me. I just stood there, looking at the floor. Justin must have taken that as a good sign because he touched my cheek gently and then slid his hand to my neck, massaging it lightly.

Then he whispered, in a voice that shook, "Me, too."

I lifted my head until his eyes met mine and gazed at him with such intensity that he trembled. I tried to bite the words back, but to no avail. I found myself inquiring, "If you really want me, if you've wanted me for a long time, then, why all this? Why the hesitation?"

Justin let his head fall and swallowed hard. Then he took a deep breath and met my gaze. His voice still shaking, he replied, "Because…because I've never…"

I quirked an eyebrow.

Justin looked down and finished, his voice dropping as he spoke, "…done anything with anyone."

Then he looked back up at me. I just blinked. I couldn't process what I'd heard. After a minute or two, I cleared my throat and clarified, "You…" Ha, well, I started to anyway.

Justin nodded.

Incredulously, I asked, "How…is that even possible?"

Justin blushed a deep crimson, but held my gaze. He snapped, "It wasn't a conscious decision. I just…couldn't. I'd seen you and some of our friends fucking men indiscriminately, in alleys and in backrooms, not kissing, not even making eye contact. You were just bodies…it was like watching you masturbate with a person rather than your hand."

I stiffened.

"I didn't want that. I found such encounters repugnant. I wanted to wait…for it to be special, and I knew that there was only one person on this planet with whom I could really connect…unfortunately (Justin's voice was suddenly bitter), he was too busy fucking every male slut in Pittsburgh to realize that I'd been in love with him for at least seven, if not eleven, years, to realize that I wanted him with every fiber of my being. That every time he brought some trick home, I died a little inside." Justin's voice broke on the last few words, causing my chest to ache terribly.

Justin brushed away tears and swung around. I clenched my jaw. Apparently, looking at me made him ill. I couldn't blame him. Right now, I could barely stand myself.

Suddenly I regretted ever kissing Justin. It was fucking selfish, and I knew it at the time, but I…I just couldn't help it. I should have let Ethel have Justin. Justin seemed to like him, and I doubted very much that Ethel'd had as many partners. He may be less pleasant to look at, but he probably didn't disgust Justin. I sighed, bit back tears, and said as lightly as I could, "Okay. We gave it a whirl. Someday maybe we'll look back on this day and laugh."

Justin swung back around and stared at me with shocked, accusing eyes. I unconsciously took a step back (and my cock jumped; I fucking loved it when he put me in my place).

He folded his arms on his chest and asked, in an amused voice, "Really? Really? After supposedly wanting me for seven years, that's seriously all the try you've got?"

I laughed and shook my head. Then I raised my hands as though in surrender. I said helplessly, "Though I might want to, I can't change the past, and, whether I meant to or not, I hurt you. I can't…I can't even imagine how much…fuck…seeing you with Ethel this morning sent me over the edge. It was either murder him or ravish you. But if I had heard the two of you together, even once, I would have had no choice. I would have broke his fucking neck."

I was smiling, but my voice had a frightening (even to me) edge to it.

Strangely, this didn't seem to be a turn off. Justin had flushed with desire, and his breathing had grown ragged.


	8. Chapter 8: Secrets and Confessions, 4

I swallowed hard. After a moment's hesitation (trying to get my courage up), I started walking backward toward the bathroom, all the while unbuttoning my shirt. Then I rolled my shoulders back and let my shirt fall. I caught it just before it hit the floor and tossed it at Brian.

I purred, in my sexiest voice, "If I still have a boyfriend, tell him that I'll be in the bathroom washing the cum off…and…"

I felt myself blushing, but still, I pushed on, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans to reveal my cock, which was again hard and leaking.

I continued, "…possibly relieving myself of the huge hard-on he inspired."

Brian's eyes darkened with desire. I smiled, turned, and continued on to the bathroom.

Three minutes later, when I was all soapy and wet, Brian entered the room. He was naked. I couldn't help but gape at his body…his beautiful bronze skin and his gigantic cock, which was almost purple. I licked my lips, which caused his cock to stir. I couldn't help but smile a little.

Uncertainly, Brian asked, "Can I come inside?"

I froze.

Brian chuckled. "I mean inside the shower."

I blushed and laughed a little. Then I replied, "Sure," trying to sound nonchalant, but my voice quaked.

Brian stared into my eyes as he approached. My heart stalled for a moment when he came within an inch or two of me.

He breathed, "I want to watch you stroke your cock."

My hands shook as I grabbed the bar of soap and lathered up my hands, so much so that I actually dropped it. When I bent over to pick it up, I heard a sharp intake of breath. I bit my lip and took my time retrieving it. I moaned softly when I felt Brian's hands on my ass, first caressing it gently and then squeezing it hard.

Breathlessly, Brian inquired, "Sunshine, can I, can I touch you…inside?"

I couldn't breathe or speak. Somehow I managed to nod. Still bent over, I handed the soap up to Brian. He soaped up his hands and then slowly pushed a finger inside me.

I gasped. He paused for a moment, but then pushed it further inside, up, and then back a little. When he touched some special part of me, a pulse of heat shot through me. I moaned a deep body moan. Brian continued to massage that spot, causing me to pant and moan softly. I was watching Brian's face; he licked his lips and gazed at my body hungrily, his eyes half-lidded with desire. I looked over at Brian's cock. It was leaking. I clenched a fist. I really wanted to lick the precum off, suck on the head of his cock, and then, if I was able, deep throat him. When Brian saw me staring at his dick, he removed his finger and half-said, half-moaned, "Touch me. Please. I want your hands on me."

Oh God.

I stood up, got my hands good and soapy, and then grabbed his cock with both. I slid one down to his balls, gently caressing them with my fingers, and then began stroking his dick with my other, slowly sliding it up and down his shaft. Brian let his head fall back and moaned. Loudly. I stroked him like that for a few minutes. Then suddenly, he spun me around and pushed me against the wall. I gasped. He grabbed my hips roughly and positioned his cock against my crack. Next he began sliding his dick between my cheeks. The pressure against my entrance set my body to thrumming. I started rubbing my cock against the shower wall.

But Brian pulled me back a little, rested his chin on my shoulder, and whispered, "Stroke your cock for me, Sunshine." I shivered. Then I did as he'd asked. I slid both my hands along my shaft and squeezed my cock hard. I moaned when I felt a wave of electricity prickle through me. I moved one hand to the wall to steady myself and began pumping my dick with the other. Brian started sliding his cock between my ass cheeks faster. And faster. Meanwhile, he began sucking, licking, and nibbling on the back of my neck. Oh fuck. Between the rocking, the pressure of Brian's huge cock throbbing against my entrance, the warmth of Brian's chest on my back, the shivery, tingly sparks he set off everywhere inside me with his ministrations to my neck, and the sharp pulses of heat coursing through me as I stroked my dick, I was lost. I shut my eyes, leaned my head back onto Brian's chest, and moaned. Over and over and over. Louder and louder and louder.

Then when I felt Brian plunge his tongue into my mouth, kissing me ferociously, I squeezed my dick hard, so hard, and came. I kissed Brian back desperately as stream after stream of cum spurted out of me. My body sagged a little after.

Just then Brian stopped kissing me and pushed me roughly against the wall, holding my ass cheeks together, so he could slide his cock between them even faster. He pumped his hips, moaning and grunting. Suddenly, he thrust up and froze, crying out, "Oh fuck! Oh Justin, Justin, Oh…Oh….OH!"

Unexpectedly, Brian fell silent and collapsed onto my back. After a few moments, he slid his hands around my waist and held me tight. Then he breathed, "I love you, Justin. So fucking much."

I spun around in Brian's arms, nuzzled his neck (as he pulled me closer and held me tight), and then whispered back, "I love you, too, Brian. Always, always only you."


	9. Chapter 9: Our Morning Routine, Revised

This morning, for the first time in four years, I did not wake up to the sound of Justin's voice warmly greeting a trick I'd fucked the night before and offering him coffee. This morning, there was no trick in my bed…

Only Justin.

But I shouldn't say only. He was and is everything.

After our X-rated but sexless shower the night before, Justin had toweled off (I'd offered to do it for him, but he'd blushed and declined), and then, with the towel wrapped around his waist, he had run into his bedroom for pajamas. I had laid down, expecting to spend the night alone, but, a few minutes later, just as I was about to drift off, I'd felt the warmth of Justin's body against mine. I'd rolled over, pulled him into my arms, and fallen asleep with my face buried in his neck. I woke up the same way.

I spent the first hour I was awake with Justin in my arms, his head on my chest, watching him sleep. I hadn't done that in a long time and never in this circumstance , where he was my boyfriend, and, I would probably never admit it, but it felt incredible. I couldn't help but run my fingers through his silky blond hair and caress his soft creamy white skin.

Justin soon awoke probably because he could feel my touch. His eyes widened when he realized that he was in my bed and, in fact, lying on top of me. Then he blushed, I imagine, because he felt my hard on pressed against him.

I smiled and greeted Justin brightly, "Morning, Sunshine."

Justin buried his head in my chest, but I could feel his bright smile against my skin. Then he whispered, "Morning, Brian" and rolled to the side. At that moment, I thought it prudent to give Justin a chance to absorb everything, so I stood up. First I brushed my teeth (the bathroom was off of my room), and then I headed toward the kitchen.

Nervously, Justin asked, "Where you going?"

I chuckled and replied cheerfully, "To make coffee. After four years, I think it's my turn."

Justin smiled and looked down (I was naked, and my erection was impossible to miss), but he very cutely peeked back up when he thought I wasn't looking. I turned around very slowly (my cock was my best feature) and then left for the kitchen.

The second I had cleared the door, I heard water running. I laughed as I imagined him making a mad dash for the bathroom to brush his teeth. But when I stuck my head in (to ask, "You hungry?"), he was already back in bed with the duvet up to his chin. He nodded enthusiastically. I returned ten minutes later with coffee, toast, and cantaloupe that I had cut myself. Justin sat up and waited somewhat impatiently as I made my way toward the bed and set the tray on his lap.

Then I lay on the bed lengthwise, resting on my elbow, and sipped my coffee as I watched him munching happily on toast and cantaloupe.

*******

Justin licked his lips as he started to jerk off.

I asked, "Can I touch you inside again?"

Justin replied huskily, "Yes."

I pushed his knees up so that his feet were flat against the bed, slowly sucked on a finger, getting it good and wet, and then pushed it inside of Justin.

Justin gasped and then moaned when I first touched his prostate. I was lying lengthwise next to him, watching him intently as I massaged it. Justin continued to stroke his cock, panting and moaning. I couldn't resist this image of him (or any other, really). I leaned in, nudged his nose with mine slowly, my lips so close to his but not touching, just breathing the same air and examining (gazing at) his face, his lips, his eyes. Then I kissed his lips gently.

Justin, I imagine, overwhelmed by sensation and desire, grabbed the back of my neck with his free hand and yanked me closer, tearing into my lips with his and plunging his tongue into my mouth, ravaging it.

After a couple minutes of frantic kissing, Justin broke away and moaned, desperation evident in his quavering voice, "Brian, I need to touch you, for you to touch me. Now."

I guided his hand to my cock, which was now purple and covered in precum, pulled my finger out of him, and took his cock in my hand. The feel of his soft warm hands on my cock, gripping it hard, and sliding them up and down my shaft sent wave upon wave of heat and electricity surging through my body.

I wanted so much to draw my tongue along his shaft, lapping up his precum, and then take his entire length in my mouth, sucking his cock hard, but slowly at first, deepthroating him until his body trembled with the force of the pleasure he was experiencing and the attendant desire. But I contented myself with squeezing his shaft as hard as I could and stroking him quickly, all the while running the fingers of my other hand lightly over his balls.

But when I let my fingers stray to his perineum, he cried out, loudly, "Oh! Oh, Brian!" and came in long white spurts. The pleasure I heard in his voice and saw on his face, coupled with his gentle touch, pushed me over the edge. I pulled a sweaty, sated Justin into my arms with one hand and kissed him hungrily, so hungrily, as my cock exploded in his hand.

I held him even tighter after that. We were a disgusting mess, but I loved every second that his body was against mine. I relished in our grossness.

Once I had caught my breath, I pulled back, grinned broadly, and declared, "Well, that was one. Just two to go!"

Justin smiled shyly and blushed.

*******

As we approached the diner, I took Justin's hand in mine. He blushed and stammered, "You don't have to…"

But I interjected, "Would you deny me my victory lap?"

Justin stared at me with wide eyes and repeated incredulously, "Victory lap…"

When I nodded, his eyes took on this intense expression, and he pushed me up against the outside wall, sliding his hands behind my neck, pulling me toward him roughly, and thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I immediately grabbed his ass, pulling him even closer, and then slid my hands up his back as I deepened our kiss. Then I whirled around and pushed him against the wall, eliciting a surprised squeak. I attacked his lips, his mouth, with an unprecedented passion that had him melting into my embrace, moaning softly in my mouth, and even rubbing his hard cock against mine.

*******

When we entered the Liberty Diner, we were greeted by Mikey, who was looking at us both strangely, I expect, because Justin had told him that we were dating, and Brandon, who was his normal impassive self. They were sitting across from each other, but, when Mikey saw us come in, he moved to sit next to Brandon.

Of course.

Mikey, now a freaky bundle of nerves, looked at me and away several times before biting the bullet and asked eagerly, "So did you guys fuck last night?"

I said nothing and poured all my energy into looking calm and unperturbed. I had no idea what Justin wanted others to know about us. I intended to follow his lead. Justin blushed a deep crimson and shook his head. I gave him a compassionate look that I hoped no one had seen and replied cheekily, "We've been dating less than 24 hours. How easy do you think I am?"

Justin giggled and slid into the booth. I joined him.

That gave Mikey and Brandon and all the other patrons in nearby booths a good laugh. But Justin relaxed, which was all I cared about.

Debbie approached with two cups of coffee and patted Justin on the shoulder. "Justin was always a smart boy. He's probably waiting until Brian's tested and gets all his shots."

Then Justin exclaimed, "He's not a dog, Deb!"

Debbie shrugged. "I guess that's all a matter of opinion."

Justin kissed me on the lips gently as though to register his.

Deb shook her head and left to give our orders to the cook (raisin toast for me and two eggs, bacon, wheat toast, and home fries, well done with extra onions, for Justin).

I glanced over at Justin, who was, as usual, absorbed in adding milk and sugar to his coffee. When he was done with the sugar, he slid it my way. As I took the dispenser and began adding sugar to my coffee, I decided that I had to do something to change our routine. Justin and I were, miraculously, together, and I needed to do something to mark today as being different from every other day that had preceded it.

Right before Deb handed the slip with our usual orders to the cook, I called out, "Deb?"

She turned, looking at me strangely.

"Instead of our usual, why don't you give us a full stack of chocolate chip pancakes and a double order of bacon to share? One plate and two forks."

Deb and I both looked at Justin. He grinned and nodded. "That sounds great!"

I wondered at his enthusiasm. Was he just a food slut or was he pleased that I wanted to share and flattered that I'd be willing to eat very fattening food to please him? (Chocolate chip pancakes and bacon were two of his favorite breakfast foods, I knew it, and he knew I knew it.)

Before I could come to any conclusion, Emmett walked in.

As he had done hundreds of times before, he slid into an adjacent booth (on Mikey and Brandon's side) so that his back was against the wall and his legs on the seat and leaned his head on his arm, which was resting on the top of the booth.

But then he gaped when he observed me nudging Justin's nose and kissing him tenderly on the lips (I could see him in my peripheral vision). He asked, "Are…Are you two dating?"

We both turned to look at him. Justin smiled and nodded.

Emmett exclaimed, "Brian Kinney dating someone…and our little Justin to boot…Now I've seen everything."

Just then, Debbie arrived with our food.

Ted, who'd entered the diner in the middle of Emmett's exclamation, slid into the booth opposite him and inquired, "Justin and Brian are dating?"

His eyes still wide, Emmett nodded. "Crazy, huh?"

Ted grinned and asked Justin, "So…is he as good a fuck as everyone says he is?"

Justin blushed, but before he could answer, Mikey piped up, "He doesn't know."

Impossible as it might seem, Emmett's eyes grew wider. "What?!"

Daphne suddenly appeared next to our booth and asked, "You still haven't fucked him?"

When Justin, blushing even more deeply, shook his head, she clucked her tongue at him.

In an attempt to distract Justin, I took a forkful of chocolate chip pancake and brushed it (the piece of pancake) against his lips. He looked up at me, smiled, and opened his mouth wide. That gave me a chuckle and made my cock jump. Much to everyone's amazement, we took turns feeding each other. When half our breakfast was gone, Justin suddenly drew near, stating softly, "You have chocolate on your face."

Then he shocked me by leaning even closer and licking it off my cheek. Without even thinking I pulled him onto my lap so that he was straddling me, slid my hands down to his perfect ass, and pulled him closer, grinding his cock against mine. He moaned softly.

Daphne giggled. "So who wants to bet they fuck by tonight?"

Mikey raised his hand.

Emmett hemmed and hawed. "I don't know…I'd say within a week, but probably not tonight. Justin still looks too nervous."

Ted nodded. "I'd give them a couple of weeks (before they have sex) at the most."

Brandon shook his head. Everyone, even Justin and I, turned to look at him, eagerly awaiting his prediction. After a nearly interminable pause, he said just two words, "Three months."

Mikey, Ted, and Emmett looked at him, aghast.


	10. Chapter 10: How We Met Ted

A/N: I'm taking a cue from the TV show _How I Met Your Mother_ for this part.

How I Met Ted

The first night I'd gone out hustling with Brandon was one of the worst nights of my life. I'd had no idea what to wear or do or where to tell Justin I was going. In the end, I'd had little choice in terms of wardrobe. I'd rooted through Mikey's closet and dresser, but nothing he owned was the least bit sexy. So I'd thrown on the one shirt I had without print (a plain black T-shirt) and my tightest dark blue jeans. I'd told Justin that I was going to do some work on a diner customer's car in this fictional person's brightly lit and well-stocked garage for extra money and that he should wait for me at Mikey's. Under no circumstances did I want him to sleep in the park alone, not only because it was unsafe but also because I didn't want to risk his seeing me there with a john.

After this preparation, I'd headed over to the park, where Brandon was waiting for me. Brandon had told me to lean up against a lamppost and then he'd stood next to me with his jean jacket casually tossed over his shoulder. The first person to approach was another teenager. He was a short and awkward-looking kid with black hair.

That's right.

Ted.

He'd pulled out a neat stack of ones and asked, "How much?

He'd addressed me, but I'd had no clue what anything cost. So Brandon had answered coolly, "Ten for a hand job, twenty for a blow job, and fifty for a fuck, either way."

Ted had nodded solemnly and then carefully counted out twenty bucks. He'd handed it to me. My heart'd suddenly plummeted into my stomach. At that point, I'd never done anything with anyone. An image of Justin's beautiful smiling face had then flashed before my eyes. I'd turned away and vomited on the spot.

Ted had inquired, "Is he okay?"

Not realizing that I could hear him or that we'd ever see Ted again, he'd answered honestly, telling Ted something I'd had no idea he knew, "He's a virgin and in love with some blond kid. Would you mind if I sucked you off instead?"

I have no way of knowing Ted's response, but it must have been in the affirmative because I'd soon heard his low raspy voice moaning. I'd turned around and watched as Brandon, now kneeling, bobbed his head up and down, sliding Ted's unfortunately sized cock in and out of his mouth.

Then an older man had approached. I'd sighed when the figure came into full view. My old gym teacher.

A chill wind had then blown through the trees, reminding me why I was out there, to get Justin and I out of the park before autumn set in.

Mr. Johnson had licked his lips, causing me to shudder, and asked, "How much to fuck you?"

I'd set my jaw and replied, "Fifty bucks.

After pocketing the money, I'd pulled my jeans down and turned around, holding onto the lamppost for dear life.

When I'd heard him unzip his pants, I'd managed to inform him, "I don't do it raw," but I'd barely closed my eyes when I'd felt his unlubed, but sheathed, cock begin ripping me apart. Thankfully, Jack's longtime abuse had forced me to learn how to disassociate my body from my mind, so while he'd grunted like a pig and pounded my virgin ass, I'd imagined kissing Justin's plump cherry-red lips and feeling those lips sliding over my cock.

To my delight, or something like that, Mr. Johnson had finished fast. So I was pulling up my jeans just as Ted was leaving. Our eyes had met for a moment. He'd given me a compassionate look, which had confused me until I'd felt something wet sliding down my cheek.

I'd been crying.

After the shock had worn off, I'd brushed the tears away and blinked a few times. Then I'd reached into my pocket until I'd felt the crisp fifty dollar bill there, and I'd quickly done the math. Six fucks, fifteen blow jobs, or thirty hand jobs a night, a few nights a week, for two weeks, would get us an apartment, and a few more weeks would furnish it. I'd gritted my teeth, steeling myself, and turned back around, ready for anything. After all, I'd spent the better part of two years jerking off to thoughts of Justin, so I'd had plenty of fantasies, many of them quite elaborate, I could call to mind and in which I could deeply embroil myself in the blink of an eye.

A couple of hours later, barely able to walk, I'd limped back to Mikey's to get Justin. Then he'd chattered the entire way back about some movie he'd watched with Mikey as I'd clenched a fist and forced myself to walk normally. But it was all worth it when I'd pulled Justin into my arms (for, uh, warmth, ironically, maybe thirty feet from the lamppost where I'd lost my virginity) and told him how much money I'd made 'working on the diner customer's car.' I'd been unable to stifle my grin (from pride) or my silent tears (from shame) when Justin had exclaimed, "Wow, Brian! That's so much money! You must be very talented!"

How We Met Ted

The next day, Justin and I were at the diner eating breakfast when in had walked Ted. His eyes had widened in shock when he'd caught sight of me and even more when he'd caught sight of Justin. But by the time Justin'd looked up, he'd quelled his surprise. He'd looked back at us nonchalantly as though he'd never seen me before.

I'd known then that he'd make a good friend, so I'd invited him to sit down, and he's eaten breakfast with us every morning since.


	11. Chapter 11: How We Met Emmett

How I Met Emmett

Two years ago, I'd sold my first painting. I'd wanted to get something for Brian with the money, something very special, because, though I wouldn't admit it then, not even under threat of torture, I was head over heels in love with him. At the time, Brian had been working for Mel's law firm for three years, first as an intern and then as a paralegal. He was even taking pre-law in college. So I'd decided to get him a 'power suit.' Knowing how particular Brian had always been about his appearance and how narcissistic he'd grown since he'd been sexually active, I'd been eager to get him a stylish, expensive suit that would fit him like a glove. But, of course, back then, I knew nothing about fashion.

Then one day, I'd been sitting on Liberty Avenue, contemplating my dilemma, when a lanky teenager with sandy brown hair, all moussed and spiked, had approached me.

He'd asked, "Why so glum, sweetie?"

I'd never met such an effeminate gay boy before, so I'd been a little surprised when he'd spoken to me like he was an older woman.

But once I'd gotten over my surprise, I'd replied, "I want to get my roommate, Brian, a suit, but I have no idea where to start."

Proudly, I'd declared, "He's a paralegal in a law firm and is even studying pre-law. Someday he's gonna be a lawyer. A fabulous one. And…he's always trying to look stylish. He often laments the fact that he can't afford more stylish clothes. But…but I don't know the first thing about fashion."

The boy had been nodding and looking at me compassionately as he'd listened, but at the end, he'd clapped his hands and giggled.

My eyes had shot open.

"Baby, I, Emmett Honeycutt, am just the person you've been looking for! I know ALL about fashion, and I even know strategically employed sales clerks, which is, of course, the best way to save money on designer clothing. Do you know what label he'd want?"

I'd wrinkled my nose as I'd tried to remember. Then I'd smiled brightly. I'd piped up, "I think I remember him saying that one day he wanted to buy an Armani suit."

Emmett nodded in approval. "Of course. Only the best."

Then he'd giggled again. "I just happen to know a sales clerk who works at the Pittsburgh Armani store! Do you know his size?"

I'd shaken my head.

"That's okay. Point him out. I can tell just by looking."

"Really? How?"

Emmett had shrugged. "It's a gift."

We'd spent that afternoon 'stalking Brian,' so Emmett could get a look at him without ruining the surprise, and the next, examining Brian's wardrobe, so Emmett could better choose the color and style.

We'd decided to wait till the following (the third) afternoon to purchase the suit because that's when Emmett's friend was scheduled to work. Unfortunately, his friend had been fired, ironically, for giving people discounts. I'd almost had a nervous breakdown. As much money as I'd earned with the sale of my painting (which was more than I'd ever seen at one time before), I'd still been short a couple hundred. Without a hefty discount, I knew I'd never be able to buy the suit.

Emmett, on the other hand, had remained as cool as a cucumber, to use one of his expressions. He'd eyed the new sales clerk carefully and then concluded gleefully, "I bet he'd come down on the price if I gulped down some of his cum."

My eyes had widened in horror. I'd sputtered, "No, Emmett, you can't…you don't have to. I'll find another way."

But Emmett had just smiled. "Relax, sweetie! I don't mind. He's kinda cute."

Still horrified, I'd watched as Emmett approached the boy and started flirting, eventually accompanying him into the back room. Soon I'd heard moaning and then finally a loud shout, followed by silence. A few minutes later, we'd left the store with Brian's new suit in hand. I'd been beaming all the way to the car and during the car ride, apparently too brightly, because, out of the blue, Emmett had asked, softly, "You're in love with Brian aren't you?"

I'd turned bright red and tried to speak, to reply in the negative, but I'd been suddenly incapacitated, suddenly rendered incapable of forming words.

Emmett had smiled and patted my hand, assuring me, "Don't worry, baby. I won't tell a soul."

How We Met Emmett

The next morning, at the diner, Brian had been telling Mikey, Brandon, Daphne, and Ted, quite loudly, how happy he'd been with the suit, how it'd fit him perfectly, like it was made for him, and how I'd chosen his favorite color. When Mikey had asked how I'd paid for it, Brian had declared proudly that such things were a snap for up and coming artists like me. I blushed at the compliment and at the memory of how Emmett had made up the difference.

I didn't realize it at first, but Emmett had been standing a few feet away the whole time.

When our eyes had met, he'd smiled and then pretended to lock his lips and throw away the key. I'd smiled back and invited him to sit down. He's eaten breakfast with us every morning since. To this day, he never told Brian that I was in love with him or that he'd helped me pick out the suit Brian treasured so much.


	12. Chapter 12: Walking Justin to Class

"Brian, you really didn't need to drive me to school. And you certainly don't need to walk me to my first class."

I shrugged. "I know. I just…wanted to."

The truth was, I'd wanted to do this for a long time. Pathetic as it may sound, or be, these kinds of things were what I wished for the most, holding Justin's hand and carrying his book bag as I walked him to class. Anyone could suck his cock or fuck him, well, with Justin, not just anyone, but you get the idea. But Justin's never had a boyfriend before. Hell, neither have I. Of course, I always knew that if I were ever to have one, it would be Justin.

Justin shook his head at me, but, still, he held my hand tight and smiled brightly as we walked to the art history building. I couldn't expect Justin to understand this ultra-lame behavior. I didn't even really understand it myself.

Maybe I was just trying to stake out my territory. I was kind of hoping we 'd see Ethel. What I wouldn't have given for him to be in Justin's art history class.

Once we were outside his classroom, I set Justin's book bag on the floor next to him and brought my hand up to his face, caressing it gently. Then I leaned in, nudged his nose, and just sort of hovered, my lips a centimeter from Justin's, breathing the same air. I knew the look in my eyes must be intense because Justin flushed and trembled slightly. The anticipation was killing him. I could tell because he suddenly pulled away and looked down. Then he said, "You'd better go, Brian. You don't want to be late for poli sci again. One more time and the professor will start deducting points from your final grade, right?"

I growled, "Oh hell no, Sunshine. I'm not leaving until you kiss me."

Justin smiled and peeked up at me from under his long blond eye lashes. Fuck, he was adorable (and sexy as hell) when he did that!

I grabbed him by the neck with both hands, nudged his nose, and brushed his lips with mine. When I heard him draw his breath in sharply, I smiled and dove in, pressing my lips against his softly and then mingling them together, finally thrusting my tongue into his mouth, pulling him closer, tilting his head, and diving even deeper. Justin slid his arms around my neck, threaded his fingers through my hair, and then kissed me back passionately. So passionately. I didn't know what was more intoxicating, his fire, his soft sigh, or his scent and the feel of his hands on me. I inched my hands slowly down his back, all the way to his ass, and pulled his entire body against mine, kissing him deeper, savagely. At that moment, I was fully cognizant of my weakness. I knew then that Justin would always bring me to my knees, for I would always need him to want and love only me.


	13. Chapter 13: How We Met Brandon

How We Met Brandon (sort of)

Brandon. A puzzle within an enigma wrapped in a riddle. Not too different from Brian in that regard. I've always kind of despised him, but, ironically, I've also always been a little in awe of him. You might wonder why. The answer is quite simple, really. Both have their root in the same "event."

I can't be sure (about the first part), but I think he took Brian's virginity and then convinced him to start hustling.

All I know is that Brian started disappearing every evening for a while when we were sixteen. He always had an excuse, some better than others. But he'd have to be totally clueless to think I didn't smell other men, and sex, on him when he held me close at night (back when we were sleeping in the park). That first night I couldn't be sure, but after a few nights, I knew. The bucketful (not literally) of condoms I happened to find when taking his dirty laundry out of his book bag just confirmed my suspicions, my fears. And then Ted accidentally told me that Brian had been with Brandon that first night, the night he was supposed to be working on a diner customer's car.

Even now, thinking back to that time hurts so much. When I do, three words reverberate in my mind, my chest, my heart.

Why not me?

I'd wanted only him since I knew how to want.

When Brian told me later that he'd desired me for seven years and that none of the other boys/men he'd fucked had meant anything to him, that just confused, grieved, and scared me even more. Why choose others when I was right there, even in his arms? Did he have difficulty mixing lust and love? Did he want things he thought I couldn't provide? Was I too inexperienced? Did he think I'd be too inhibited? I can't really blame him if that were the case. I've always been shy, especially where Brian and sex are concerned. But…it's only because I want him so, so, so very much. Just the thought of having sex with him makes me tremble a little. Fuck, the orgasms this man has given me (without even being present)...

And of course, all that begs the question: What's changed? If I wasn't enough for him then, how could I possibly be enough for him now? That's why I'm trying to work up to sex. I figure, if he's going to be disappointed, if he's going to break my heart (inadvertently or no), it'd be better if it happened before we fuck. I mean, he'll probably know whether I'll suck in bed (and not in the good way) just from a bad hand job or head. If he likes all the little steps along the way, that'll boost my confidence enough, I think. I hope. Brian is the last person in the world I want to disappoint, in any way, but especially sexually. Sometimes, I think it would be better if I just picked up some random guy and let him fuck me, but…I know I wouldn't enjoy it. And if I did, I'd just hate myself. I only want to be with Brian. I want to do everything for the first time with him.

I want all that to mean something. I mean, I love and want Brian so much that I want to kiss, lick, and suck on every single inch of his body. He's so beautiful and perfect to me. But at the same time, that puts a lot of pressure on us, on that one act. Maybe that's why Brian gave his body away like it was nothing, first to someone he'd just met, then to anyone who could pay, and finally to any attractive man who wanted him.

Except me.

Oh God…I still can't handle it. Did I mean so little to him? The thought of letting anyone else, anyone but Brian, do to me what I've seen men do to one another in alleys and backrooms makes me a little nauseous. I guess that makes me a prude. But I don't feel like one. The things I imagine Brian and I doing…they are rated triple X.

So…that's why I hate Brandon. The reason I'm in awe of him is that, even at sixteen, he had a strange wisdom. When I realized that that fucking bastard had turned Brian out, I confronted him. I demanded to know how he could do that and live with himself.

He didn't look even a little bit fazed. He replied evenly, "Brian wanted something he couldn't possibly afford. I just provided him with the means of attaining it. If you have a better solution, by all means, share."

Grrr. I'm still pissed at him for being so nonchalant about Brian's selling his body. It's not like he cosigned a loan or gave him a recommendation. He…I can't say it or even think it. It makes me feel so angry and so desolate. Well, fucker, I did find a better solution, though, unfortunately, it took me a little while.

Then I asked him how he, how Brian, could divorce his body from his heart. This is really the part that had me rethinking my feelings about Brandon.

He answered simply, "Who says we have?"

When I thought about that for a while, it caused me the greatest pain imaginable. It was then that I realized that Brian was selling his body for me, for us.

I still hate that fucking bastard.

But I admire him a little, too.


	14. Chapter 14: Fun in the Law Library

I knew I shouldn't be doing this, but I was so touched by Brian's walking me to art history, holding my hand and carrying my bookbag, that no anal fear of missing something in painting class could prevent me from ditching it. Brian had an hour break at this time, and he usually spent it in Carnegie Mellon's law library. That's where I was headed now. I'd probably only miss the one class. One absence wouldn't kill me, but staving off the urge to fondle Brian inappropriately at school…in the law library, well, that was fucking impossible.

I found Brian sitting alone at a table covered in huge tomes. Half of them were open. He moved from one to the other consulting them in turn. I looked around and smiled. Few people wandered around the library at this time of day. Only the truly studious ventured inside before nightfall. But even if it had been busy, Brian's table was surrounded by the book stacks, isolating it from the main part of the library. This was the perfect spot for a little extracurricular activity.

While Brian was deeply engrossed in a particularly large book, I crawled underneath the table. I had enough room to sit up with my legs crossed. Then I slid my hands up his thighs and started rubbing his cock through the fabric of his pants. I had a perfect view of Brian's face from my vantage point. When I first touched his thighs, his head shot up, a comically confused expression on his face, and when I started fondling his dick, he tilted his head and looked down. A sexy smile broke out on his face when he saw that it was me. He set his pencil down and spread his legs wider. I took the opportunity to unbutton and unzip his pants. Then I reached into his boxer briefs and pulled out his half-erect cock.

I started stroking him slow, all the while studying his face. His mouth was open slightly, and, as I picked up the pace, his face flushed. He was so beautiful in this moment that it took my breath away. I wanted nothing more than to give him even greater pleasure. To make him pant and moan (I hoped he'd even moan my name; the very thought had my cock stirring).

Brian's cock had started leaking copious quantities of precum. Suddenly I was overcome by the urge to taste him, so I leaned in and licked the head of his cock, drawing the flat of my tongue over it slowly. Brian watched as though hypnotized, and his breathing grew ragged. Excited by his responses, I reached inside his boxer briefs and cupped his balls with my free hand, running my fingers over them lightly and then squeezing them gently. My heart stopped when I heard Brian moaning my name softly. Then I felt Brian's balls swell and tighten. He was about to cum. I had originally planned to let the cum fall where it would (on the library's carpet), but once I'd started to give him pleasure, once I'd seen the power my mere touch had over him, all I wanted to do was give him even more, to cause other responses. So without even thinking I slid my lips over his cock, taking as much of his length (which was quite large) into my mouth as I could. Brian unexpectedly cried out, loudly, "Oh fuck! Justin," arched his back, and came. He shot so much hot semen into my mouth, so much more than I was anticipating, that some dribbled out onto my lips (and rolled down to my chin) as I tried to swallow it. Brian smiled in satisfaction, but then chuckled when he saw the few drops of cum on my lips and chin. I turned beet red. He crooked a finger at me. I couldn't even look at Brian. I moved to wipe my face off, but Brian stopped me, pushing my hand away and pulling me into his lap. Then he licked my chin and my lips. I flushed, and my breathing grew ragged. Brian had just slipped his hands behind my head and started pulling me in for a passionate kiss when we heard a booming, "Brian Kinney! What on earth are you doing?"

I jumped off Brian's lap and ran (like there was no tomorrow) right out of the library. When I was finally outside, I threw myself against a secluded wall and tried to catch my breath. After I'd managed to still my rapidly beating heart, I cursed under my breath. I was such a wuss. I had been mortified by being caught (after) jerking my boyfriend off, but then I had fled like I'd committed a crime. That was even more mortifying. I was so afraid Brian would never be able to forgive me for leaving him in the lurch like that. This wasn't even my school! What the fuck had I been so afraid of? I sighed. The least I could do was go back in. It wouldn't erase what I had done, but it was better than hiding outside. I was still so plagued by my internal tirade against myself that I didn't see Brian exiting the library. I ran right into him. I looked up in surprise. When I saw who it was, my eyes widened, and I paled. I started to mutter an apology, but he placed a finger on my lips to stop me.

He just smiled, his eyes filled with amusement, and said, "Have you ever thought about joining the track team, Sunshine?"

I turned bright red, but I smiled, too.


	15. Chapter 15: How We Met Mikey

How We Met Mikey

I'd known Mikey was gay the moment I'd laid eyes on him, or should I say the moment he'd laid eyes on Justin. I'd recognized the lust and the longing. I'd seen that exact same expression in my eyes about a million times, whenever I caught myself in the mirror after spending any length of time with, or thinking about, Justin. For a while, I'd worried. Mikey had quickly roped Justin into drawing illustrations for all his comic book projects and had made goo-goo eyes at Justin pretty much all the time (when he wasn't staring at his luscious ass or more than decent-sized cock, that is). In fact, we weren't so much "the three musketeers" as the two musketeers and one cock blocker.

Soon, I realized that Justin never looked at Mikey as a potential lover. From the very beginning, he saw him only as a friend. But…given the fact that Justin and I were technically only friends, that didn't give me much confidence. So for most of the seven years we'd known Mikey, I had made sure Mikey had kept his pasty white (and hairy) hands to himself. That was the real reason we hadn't asked him to run away with us and the real reason that we'd never moved into Deb's. Well for me, anyway. Justin'd had his own reasons for wanting it to be just us. I had simply never known what they were, what it was, not until very recently.

Justin hadn't made me feel any more secure. It was as though unconsciously he knew it bugged me whenever he sat next to Mikey when we were watching a movie at Deb's or when they spent afternoons holed up in Mikey's and later Justin's room talking about superheroes. I can't tell you how many tricks I didn't fuck because Justin had played the Mikey card. Sometimes, we'd be at the diner, and I'd see lips that, though they weren't, could never be, as plump and perfect as Justin's, were still more than decent for sucking my cock. I'd nod at the trick and smile, but before I could get him into the bathroom, Justin would nonchalantly ask Mikey if he wanted to go to Deb's or the apartment to work on their damn comic books. Then like a Pavlovian dog, I'd suddenly have the urge to host this meeting of artistic minds. Before you knew it, I'd be making them snacks and then sitting between them as they went on and on about shit I could care less about. Sometimes, I'd thought I'd even see Justin smile complacently after, as though he'd known exactly what he was doing, exactly how to play me.

So the day we had met Mikey, we'd wandered into the Liberty Diner, and Mikey had looked up at Justin with this stricken expression, like he'd just seen an angel. And he had. But it was my angel he was gaping at, my Sunshine. He'd stood as though in a trance and walked right up to Justin. He was so nervous that he'd barely managed a "Nice shirt."

Is that the lamest come on you've ever heard, or what?

Justin had smiled uncomfortably and replied, "Oh…uh…thanks. Yours is nice, too. Is that antman?"

And the lamest partnership known to man was forged. That very day. I was so glad Justin and I were finally an item, and not just for the obvious reason that now I got to kiss him and touch him, but also because now I needn't chaperone the two of them anymore. If I never heard another word about superpowers, origin stories, or fucking continuity, it'd be too soon.


	16. Chapter 16: First Date

"Stop staring! I'm trying to concentrate."

He didn't stop.

"Brian! I'm trying to study. I have a quiz tomorrow."

Still staring.

"Don't you have homework to do?"

Now he was nodding, but still staring. I laughed and slammed my book shut. Clearly I wasn't going to get any work done tonight. I'd have to wake up early tomorrow. A fun thought suddenly came to me. "If you're so dead set against doing homework, maybe you'd like to take me on one of our two weekly dates?"

Brian's eyes (which had been drooping with his increasing desire) flew wide open then. After a moment's pause, he drawled, "Are you sure you don't want to spread them out a little. You only get two every seven days…"

My eyes danced. "Oh I'm sure."

Brian sighed. "Why don't you study for a while longer? I need to figure out what we're gonna do on our (sigh) date."

I replied brightly, "Ok!" This was working out even better than I'd hoped. Or so I'd thought. But I had studied for exactly two minutes before I started wondering where Brian was going to take me…and what I should wear. A moment later, Brian, who had retreated to his room, came sauntering past me.

"Be ready in thirty minutes. Dress casual." That was all he said before he was out the door. I spent twenty-five of the thirty minutes rooting through my closet and drawers before finally deciding on a pair of tight light blue jeans and a gray fleece pullover (with no collar). I should be warm, but not hot and hot, but not dripping sex. The perfect middle ground.

Just then, I heard a knock at the door. When I pulled it open, I was shocked to discover Brian standing there with what looked like a bouquet of flowers. But after he thrust them into my hands and I examined them more closely, I realized that they were candy flowers. The stems were sticks and the flowers, circle-shaped lollies of different colors. I was thrilled, but so surprised that I couldn't form words.

When I turned back to Brian, I'm sure with a look of love and admiration on my face, he shrugged and kicked one foot against the door jamb uncomfortably. Then, with his tongue firmly planted in his cheek, he drawled, "I just want to see you with your plump cherry-red lips wrapped around something, sucking happily." I blushed a deep crimson. "So come on, let's go."

I smiled brightly and asked, "Where to?"

Brian lifted a hand I hadn't realized he'd been hiding behind his back. Ride tickets!

"We're going to a carnival?"

Brian just nodded. I actually jumped, I was so excited, which made him smile a little. We hadn't been to a carnival together in years!

We rode the tilt-a-whirl first. Nothing felt better than sitting with Brian, his arm around me, as we slid from one side to the other trying to get the carriage to spin and then feeling my body pressed tightly, so tightly, against his when we had. Sometimes, when the spinning was getting to me a little, making me all dizzy, I buried my face in his chest. His warmth and his scent grounded me. This was especially good because Brian was so competitive. He always committed to everything, giving 150%. So our carriage spun the most often and the longest.

The sleigh ride was probably the most fun. Since it was dark out by the time we got on and since more than half the ride was spent under the tent, most of the time, we were hidden from view. Brian took serious advantage of the situation. Despite the speed of the ride or the fact that we kept changing directions (going forward for a while and then going backward), he managed to tease and taunt me. He licked, sucked, and nibbled on my neck, right below my ear and at the pulse point. He even tilted my head down so he could work the base of my neck, causing me to shiver with pleasure. That was a particularly sensitive erogenous zone for me.

We had also ridden the Scrambler and the bumper cars (Brian bumped me the most, but I got two good bumps in, ones that sent him careening across the platform and into several other cars), and, now, he was trying to get me to ride the Ranger with him (it swings all the way up and down, like a pendulum, and then goes upside down a few times).

He prodded. "Come on, Sunshine! It'll be fun."

I scoffed, "Hell no! The last time I went on that, I puked my guts out after…"

He rolled his eyes. "Well, if you hadn't pigged out right before, stuffing yourself with cotton candy, waffle cakes, and three hot dogs, you would have been fine!"

I folded my arms on my chest and stated defiantly, "Fuck. No."

He sighed.

I snapped, "If you want to ride it so badly, go by yourself."

For a minute, I thought he would do just that, but, instead, he shook his head and took my hand. "Nah…Why don't we go stuff ourselves? There's a waffle cake vendor over there."

My eyes lit up. I loved waffle cakes! I hadn't eaten one since we were kids. They were good (I had two), but the best part was something I never would have experienced at 13, that is, Brian kissing the powdered sugar off my lips. In fact, he got so carried away after pressing his lips against mine a few times and licking my bottom lip that he suddenly thrust his tongue into my mouth. My heart stopped as he pulled me roughly into his arms, threading his fingers through my hair, and kissing me so deeply that I quite literally melted. Kissing Brian period was new, but doing so in public doubly so. We'd never had such a big audience before or such a mixed one. Even at PIFA, most of the students were gay or gay friendly. Showing so much affection, here, in a carnival held in our old neighborhood, was exhilarating and a little frightening. All the more exhilarating because it was frightening.

Unfortunately, our exceedingly thrilling kiss was interrupted by a very familiar voice, one neither of us had heard in at least five years, that of my father, Craig Taylor. It was laced with disgust and rage. Brian and I broke apart quickly and turned to face the man, who was holding the hand of a little girl I'd never seen before. She had brown hair and blue eyes, blue eyes not unlike my own. She looked up at us in fear and then tugged his hand and asked, "Who're they Daddy?"

Craig hissed, "Perverts honey. Let's go."

Then he pulled the little girl in the other direction. I just gaped. "I have a sister?"

Brian rubbed my back gently. "Looks like."

"I wonder why my mother wasn't with them…"

Brian didn't say anything at first, but then, in a cheerful voice, he stated, "I almost forgot. I believe the dating handbook requires that I win you a teddy bear."

That got my attention. I turned toward him and smiled. "Seriously?"

Brian just smiled and pulled me toward the games. As in every other arena of life, he excelled at games. After I'd browsed the prizes at the various game booths, I smiled brightly and pointed to the life-size Scooby-doo doll at the ring toss. "I want that one."

The booth operator warned Brian that he'd have to get all three rings around the farthest target to win the Scooby-doo doll. Brian laughed. "Trust you to pick out the hardest to win." He patted my ass and whispered, "But what Sunshine wants, Sunshine gets." Then he released my hand, laid 5 bucks down, and narrowed his eyes. He landed each ring over the farthest target, and all in a matter of seconds. I had the most amazing boyfriend in the world. No doubt about it. After that, we headed home. I had some serious rewarding to do. I'd think about my sister and mother later.


	17. Chapter 17: How We Met Daphne

One summer day, when Justin and I were eleven, we were sitting on the curb near Justin's house. That day was hotter than hell, and we were broke, but dying for some ice cream. So we were trying to figure out a way to make some money.

Justin suggested, "How bout a lemonade stand?"

I just blinked.

"What?"

"That's soo been done. Like a billion times!"

"I don't hear you having a better idea!"

"Hmmm…oh I know. Your pictures!"

"Huh?"

"You draw really well, right?"

Justin shrugged and looked down.

I rolled my eyes. "You _know_ you do."

Justin blushed. That made me smile and gave me even more steam. "So…you draw some pictures, and I'll sell them! I can sell anything."

Justin wrinkled his nose cutely. "I dunno. What if people think it's stupid?"

I scoffed, "It's not stupid. It's genius!"

Justin smiled. "Okay!"

We went to Justin's house so that he could grab some supplies and then he plopped down belly first on his driveway and started drawing. He drew some of the neighborhood cats, a couple of the houses, me, and, after we changed venues, the playground at the end of the road. In fact, he even included a little girl with long wavy hair that we'd never seen before who was swinging on the swings. That last one turned out to be the money picture. We'd gone door-to-door with Justin's pictures in hand, and I delivered one beautiful pitch after another. Unfortunately, most of his neighbors had no appreciation for the finer things. After five houses, we'd only managed to sell one drawing of a calico cat for fifty cents. But then, we tried a house with a moving truck out front. Turned out, this was where the little girl we'd seen at the playground lived. She and her parents were moving in that day. Her mom ended up giving us five dollars for that picture (originally she'd offered three, but I talked her up to five). The little girl had been watching the exchange from the stairs by the door. When her mom went to get her purse, she approached us.

"Hi! I'm Daphne. What are your names?"

"I'm Brian, and this is Justin."

Justin smiled and waved. "Hi!"

"Did you draw that picture?"

Justin nodded.

"Cool! So do you live on this street?"

Justin replied, "I do. Brian lives two streets down."

"Oh. So whatcha doing?"

We both exchanged a look. We weren't sure we wanted to hang out with a girl. Girls were silly and didn't like getting dirty. In unison, we answered, "Nothing." Then we laughed.

Daphne wasn't getting the hint. "Can I do nothing with you?"

We both shrugged.

"I guess."

"If you want."

We ended up taking her with us to the corner store. Justin and I both got Fudgicles, and she got a Creamsicle. The whole way there and back, she prattled on about her dad's new job, her old neighborhood, and the friends she left behind. Once we were back on Justin's street, I said, "Well, we gotta go. See you later."

"Whatcha gonna do?"

I straightened up. "We have club business. Very important stuff."

Justin nodded his head firmly.

"Ooo! A club. Can I join?"

Justin and I both shook our heads. I informed her, "No girls allowed. Sorry."

Justin again nodded his head firmly.

Daphne crossed her arms. "That is sooo not fair!"

I shrugged, and Justin gave her a sympathetic look. Then we retired to our clubhouse. It was a huge lilac bush that you could walk through. It had two rooms and a fence behind it. You could climb the fence and onto a garage on the next street. It was really cool, even if it smelled like flowers.

The next day, the war of the sexes began. Daphne might have been a girl, but she didn't mind getting dirty or even hurt (not in service of a great cause, like fighting gender inequality). She eventually recruited every girl in the neighborhood, although her army was small at first, just her and Kristen, the girl who lived next door to her. In that first sally, they snuck up to our clubhouse and pelted us with paper bags filled with dog poo. No lie. Gross as hell, but effective and a creative use of natural resources. We retaliated by throwing rocks. The second day, Daphne's ranks had swelled to five. We realized then that we, too, would need to do some recruiting. Daphne meant business. Our club of two grew to five, ten, and, by the end of the summer, sixteen. Of course, Daphne was always one step ahead of us. Her Amazonian warriors numbered twenty-two, and Daphne was a brilliant guerilla fighter. She and the other girls always managed to wake up early and sneak into our clubhouse to wreck up the place. First, they overturned tables and chairs. Then, they soaked the ground with water, making it a muddy swamp. Next, they mined the place with fresh piles of dog poo. We retaliated by crashing tea parties and bombing them with Kool-Aid-filled balloons (red Kool-Aid), kidnapping dollies, and pantsing them.

Then one fateful day, we had an all-out rumble. A battle to end all battles. Each side spent the wee morning hours building up arms: water balloons, buckets of mud, rocks, dog-poo grenades, and dozens of eggs. The fighting went on for two hours. At the end of the two hours, we were all exhausted, bruised, wet, filthy, and smelly. Justin and I met with Daphne and her second-in-command, Kristen. We hammered out a truce. We said that the girls could join, but only as honorary boys. Daphne and Kristen balked at that. They informed us that they didn't want to be honorary boys. They liked being girls. After a quick huddle, Justin and I agreed that they could remain girls, but that they could never introduce more than two 'girly elements' to the clubhouse at a time and that the boys would not be participating in any 'girly events,' e.g., tea parties. Daphne insisted that such events would occasionally transpire there whether the boys participated or not. Justin and I reluctantly agreed to give them the run of the clubhouse for two hours on Sunday and every fourth Saturday. Daphne and Kristen agreed to our terms. We celebrated (after hosing off) with cupcakes Daphne's mother had made.

We ended up having lots of fun with the girls. We played big games of street hide-and-seek in the evenings, and one of the girls' moms was always supplying baked goods, which, of course, made Justin very, very happy.

Daphne's dad got a new job when we were fifteen, so her family moved, but the three of us still kept in touch. Even after Justin and I ran away. And when she came out at seventeen, she started hanging out on Liberty Avenue, which, of course, meant that we saw her pretty much every day. She stayed in the Pitts for college. Now, she was in her first year of medical school.


	18. Chapter 18: How We Met Ben

Justin and I were at Babylon with Mikey, Daphne, Emmett, Ted, and Brandon. We were on the catwalk watching the sweaty dancing throng below when Mikey gasped, "Oh. My. God!"

Justin looked over at Mikey and asked, concern evident in his voice, "What? Is something wrong? Are you okay?" We had all taken E, and it was Mikey's first time.

Mikey was a comical sight, his mouth agape, his eyes as wide as saucers. He couldn't speak. He just pointed. We all turned to look in the direction he was pointing. A tall guy with light brown hair (maybe a dark sandy blond) had just walked in. He was pretty buff and had a great tan. He was wearing a black short-sleeved button down shirt, but it was unbuttoned, revealing his broad muscled chest.

Now it was Justin's turn to gape, his eyes wide. I raised an eyebrow when I saw his reaction. The guy was alright, but nothing to gawk at. (Yeah, right).

When Justin exclaimed, "He's HOT!" my entire body tensed. I narrowed my eyes and glared at the new guy. Then I turned back to Justin, shrugged, and said as indifferently as I could, "He's alright." Brandon laughed. I shot him an icy glare. That shut him up, but he was still smiling.

Justin shook his head incredulously and turned toward me (I thought bitterly, "About fucking time you remembered I exist"). He exclaimed, "He's better than just alright!"

Brandon smiled brightly and patted me on the back, as though to console me. I muttered, "Asshole." Then I clenched my jaw, and, before I could stop myself (I wasn't the jealous type, well, except where Justin was concerned, but I didn't want Justin to know just how possessive I was of him), I spat out, "If you wanna fuck him, you should. A big guy like that's definitely a top, and you have an ass he'd probably give his left arm to be balls deep in."

Justin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "What? No, no. I don't want to fuck him. I just…"

I cut him off, muttering, "Whatever. You might want to wipe the drool off of your chin. It's not very becoming."

Then I headed down to the bar. More like stormed down to the bar. I could hear Brandon laughing behind me. I growled, "Asshole," but I doubt he heard me.

After I reached the bar, I bought another beer. I turned around to find Justin standing in front of me, an intense look in his eyes. I couldn't tell if it was anger or something else. Justin flushed. Then he stated softly, "I said I want only you. Did you think I was lying?"

I shrugged and looked down. I knew I was acting like a fool, but I couldn't help myself. Justin almost never complimented other guys, and certainly never the way he had a moment ago. The awe in his voice, the wonder in his eyes. It made me a little nauseous and so angry that I was having dark urges. It took everything in me not to fuck that new guy in the back room (it was either fuck him or punch him). He might be a top, but, like everyone else, he'd bottom for me. Of that I had no doubt.

Justin lifted my chin with a finger until our eyes met. Then he stepped closer and whispered huskily, "I've wanted you, and _only_ you, since I knew how to want."

My heart stopped, and I forgot how to breathe.

Justin continued, "Thinking someone else is attractive…"

I narrowed my eyes and snapped, "Hot."

Justin's eyes widened in confusion. I explained evenly, "You said he was hot."

That brought a bright smile to Justin's lips. "Thinking someone is _hot_ doesn't mean that I want to fuck that person. Over the years, I've found quite a few people attractive, and I could have fucked any one of them."

That I knew well.

After a moment's pause, Justin looked down. When his eyes found mine again, he was blushing. His voice barely audible, he asked hesitantly, "Do you…do you want me to suck you off in the back room?"

My eyes widened. Justin had not yet given me a blow job (not really; what he'd done in the law library didn't count) or allowed me to give him one, and we'd done very little in public. For him to offer to do something new in front of so many people, he must be desperate to show me how much he wanted me, to show everyone else that he was mine. I was so fucking touched that I trembled a little. I leaned my cheek against his and whispered, "I don't want you to do anything before you're ready, and I certainly don't need you to put on a show for me."

Justin pulled back and shook his head. But his voice quivered (and his blush deepened) as he replied, "I want to. I want your cock in my mouth, and it…it would be kind of exciting to know other people are watching."

I smiled; my eyes were no doubt dancing as I did so. Then they darkened with desire. I growled, "What part of I don't want to share you with anyone don't you get."

Justin shivered visibly and smiled a bright Sunshine-y smile. He gasped when I grabbed him, pulling his body roughly against mine and sending my lips crashing down onto his. I threaded my fingers into his silky blond hair and pulled him even closer as I plundered his mouth. When I broke away, Justin was panting, his skin flushed and his eyes dark with a desire so intense that my heart skipped a beat.

I was about to suggest that we go home and fool around, when Justin fixed me with an intense look, took my hand in his, and pulled me outside. I threaded our fingers together. That got quite a few raised eyebrows from guys I'd previously fucked. Brian Kinney was not the hand holding type. Not for anyone but Justin. Once outside, Justin directed me to an isolated spot in the alley and then pushed me up against the wall. Justin was fucking hot (well, more so than usual) when he was forceful. He released my hand and then crushed his lips against mine and thrust his tongue inside my mouth. He kissed me so deeply, so passionately, and with such violence that my cock hardened to a painful extent. I wanted so badly to fuck him that I trembled. A moment later, still kissing me, ravaging my mouth, he fumbled with my jeans. When he finally got them open and slid his hand around my cock, I moaned. Loudly. Thankfully, my cry was somewhat muffled by the kissing.

Justin squeezed my dick hard and then broke our kiss. He started sliding to his knees. I clenched and unclenched my hands a few times. Then I groaned and pulled Justin back to a standing position. I wanted those beautiful, perfect, lips around my cock like you wouldn't believe, but not in a fucking alley covered in cum and filth. I shook my head and smiled. Who the fuck _was_ I? I didn't even know anymore.

I breathed, "Just jerk me off…and kiss me, like before." Justin laughed. His laughter was bright and warm, and, like a Pavlovian dog, I laughed, too. I was completely at Justin's mercy, and I knew it. What was perhaps most shameful was that I didn't mind. Justin growled (fucking hot!) and started kissing me just as ferociously as before. I moaned softly and then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. I grabbed his dick with one hand, squeezing it hard, and slid my other down to his balls, tracing my fingertips across them lightly. Justin actually whimpered. Then I swiped the precum from his slit and began stroking his cock as Justin pumped mine. Just like that we jerked each other off while making out like horny teenagers, desperately horny teenagers.

When we finally returned to the cat walk, we were both a little sweaty and grinning like fools.

Mikey was still watching the new guy. Justin suggested brightly, "You should ask him to dance."

Mikey shook his head fervently. "No. No. No. A guy like that wouldn't be interested in me."

Justin countered, "How do you know until you try? If he says no, you haven't lost anything."

I was feeling much more benevolent after Justin had told me that he didn't want to fuck the new guy, and after an orgasm and some heavy petting. I smiled softly as I remembered holding Justin after we came, our jeans pooled around our ankles, Justin's face nestled in my neck, both our chests heaving. Justin had whispered a little breathlessly, "I love and want only you, Brian. Never forget that." I'd replied, in a husky whisper, my voice breaking on the last few words, "I love you, too, Justin. So fucking much." That'd led to some more kissing and groping. Turning my attention back to the present, I agreed. "You should definitely ask. You're alright looking."

Mikey huffed a laugh. "Gee thanks."

I shrugged and added, "You have a boy-next-door look that some guys like. And he might be impressed with your balls."

Justin and Mikey looked at me in shock, their eyes widening. I chuckled. "If you're courageous enough, if you have balls big enough, to approach him."

Mikey and Justin exchanged a look and laughed.

Brandon nodded. "He's the snuggling type." Mikey, Justin, and I turned toward Brandon. I quirked an eyebrow, and Mikey and Justin asked, in unison, "How can you tell?"

Brandon smiled. "Call it practice wisdom."

Mikey looked over at Justin, as though for an opinion. Justin shrugged.

Daphne, who'd been silent during our entire conversation, sighed. "Mikey, you are a bigger pussy than me, and I actually have one. Just fucking march over there, grab him, and plant one on him. Then tell him, 'I want your dick inside me.' Five bucks says that's all it'd take."

Mikey blushed. "Oh God, I could never do that!"

But Justin was smiling and nodding. He giggled and clapped his hands together, something I imagine he picked up from Emmett. Then he exclaimed, "You _so_ have to do it. That's hot!"

Ted shot Justin a disapproving look. "Really? _Really_? Who are you, Paris Hilton? Where's your bag of dog? Your doggy bag, as it were."

That gave us all a chuckle. Emmett most of all. He was laughing so hard that his face turned red. He tried unsuccessfully to slap Ted on the shoulder (he was laughing too hard, and his attempts to hit Ted almost tipped him over). When he finally managed it, he exclaimed, through giggles, "Bag of dog…doggy bag…"

When he'd recovered, he said solemnly, well, as solemn as Emmett ever gets, "But seriously. She's fabulous."

That had us all laughing even harder.

When we'd all recovered, Daphne, hand on hip, asked, "Well? Are you gonna go get your man, or do I need to do it for you?"

Mikey paled, and his eyes widened. "What?"

She hissed, "You heard me. Ask him to dance, or I'll do it for you."

"You wouldn't!"

"Watch me!"

An uncomfortable silence later (about ten or twenty seconds), Mikey scurried down to the dance floor. He made it all the way up to the new guy, but Mikey was behind him, so the new guy didn't see him. Mikey went to tap on the new guy's shoulder, but then stopped and pulled his hand back. He did that a few times. Mikey looked as white as a ghost and a little wobbly on his feet. He looked up at us then. Daphne crossed her arms and nodded toward the new guy. Finally. Mikey tapped on his shoulder. The new guy swung around, and, seeing Mikey, he smiled. Brightly. A dance and a visit to the back room later, a blushing Mikey brought the new guy up to the catwalk. He smiled shyly and said, "Everyone, this is Ben."


	19. Chapter 19: The Pisces Full Moon

It was a full moon. But somehow that didn't quite explain it. Brian and I were in a field next to a dark road winding up and down small hills. We were lying on the ground looking at the stars. As if that weren't strange enough…Brian asked, "When did you know that you loved me?"

I propped myself up on one arm and looked over at Brian. I teased, "Are you _on_ something?"

Brian chuckled. "No."

"Did you eat some bad seafood?"

Brian snorted (yes, Brian-fucking-Kinney, stud of Liberty Avenue, actually snorted), which made me giggle, "No."

I said, "Come here," and, when Brian sat up (I did, too), I slid my hands over his chest and his neck (under his clothes). Brian just blinked. Then he stated evenly, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Looking for where the aliens put the chip."

Brian pushed my hands away and then gave me a little shove. "Fucking Christ, Justin! I am not _on_ anything, I didn't eat bad seafood, and I've not been replaced by an alien. So just answer the God-damned question!"

I lay back down and said, "Hmmm…when did I first know I'd fallen in love with you…I don't know. I think we were watching TV."

Brian just stared at me for a moment. I think he was dumbfounded. When he finally rediscovered his voice, he deadpanned, "That's a lovely story."

I laughed for a full minute. Then, I explained, "I don't even remember what we were watching, but you were laughing and munching on popcorn. When you suddenly turned toward me, I don't even remember what you said, something about what we were watching, your eyes were a deep sea green and bright with laughter, your hair was standing up funny from lying on the couch, your clothes were rumpled, you had butter on your cheek, and you were a little smelly (I think we'd been playing basketball before the movie), and, I don't know, you just took my breath away. My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn't speak, though you were waiting, somewhat impatiently, for me to respond to what you'd said."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

I shook my head. "Nope."

Brian shook his head, too, but in shock. "I don't get it."

I smiled. I stated softly, "Dolt. You were just beautiful to me, any way you came. I knew then that I loved you and that I always would."

Brian froze for a second, just gazing at me, but then looked down and cleared his throat. Then without prompting, he whispered huskily, "I think I knew when you first drew me."

I exclaimed, "When we were eleven?"

"Yeah. You were concentrating so hard and biting your lip. Fucking adorable. And when it was all done, I was so amazed."

I shook my head. "I didn't have anywhere near the skill I have now."

Brian shrugged. "Maybe not, but the expression on my face and in my eyes were so different, but most people wouldn't have looked at me and seen that. You managed to capture this weird mixture of bravado and vulnerability. Even then, you were the only person who could really see me. That's when I knew that I loved you and always would. But I probably didn't know that it was _in love_ love until after I started jerking off to thoughts of you, when I was fourteen."

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. "Oh my God! You fantasized about me when you jerked off?"

If I thought I had been surprised then, I was doubly surprised when he added, "I still do. The last time was the morning I kissed you, you know, after I slapped your ass and straddled you."

I had no words. It was shocking enough that Brian jerked off to thoughts of me. But his admitting it transcended belief. When I finally found my voice, I teased, "Are you sure you're not on something?"

Brian chuckled and grabbed me, pulling me on top of him. He said, "I'm not on anything." The last two words he spoke more softly as he caught sight of my eyes, which were undoubtedly filled with love and wonder. Then he breathed, "I hope you still look at me like that in twenty years. I hope you never stop."

I shook my head and smiled. "Never gonna happen."

Brian whispered, "I guess we'll see" as he pulled me in for a kiss, nudging my nose on the way. I could actually hear him draw his breath in sharply right before his lips met mine, which caused my chest to constrict, my heart to skip a beat.

That kiss was fucking incredible. No words could do it justice. (But I'm gonna try anyway) It was gentle, yet passionate. Brian kissed me deep and slow, and I felt it in my toes and in my groin. In fact, I felt shivery, electricity jolting through my entire body.

God I wanted Brian to fuck me then. Everything was so perfect. The moon shone brightly above, the air was cool and fresh (courtesy of the soft breeze shuddering through the trees), Brian was open in a way that I'd rarely seen in the eleven years we'd known one another, and he'd pretty much said that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I don't think I could have planned a better moment to be open with Brian in a way I'd never been open before. I broke our kiss and looked into Brian's eyes, which were now dark with desire and yet (if this makes any sense) bright, too. Maybe bright is the wrong word. Maybe animated or alive would be better. I could see and even feel this intensity, an intense love and longing that (again) took my breath away and stopped my heart. I trembled. I couldn't have formed a thought, let alone a sentence, if my life depended on it.

Then Brian breathed, "Let me suck you off."

Not the most romantic thing I'd ever heard, not by a long shot, but if you'd seen the attendant look in his eyes, you would have sworn that he'd asked whether he could make love to me. I managed a stammer-y, "O-okay." Aren't I smooth? Hell fucking no.

Brian flipped us over so that I was lying on my back and started unfastening the buttons on my shirt. As he did so, he trailed open-mouth kisses down my chest. The kissing and Brian's asking to blow me had caused my cock to stir, but the soft sweep of his lips on my skin caused my cock to harden to an almost painful extent. After he'd unfastened the last button on my shirt, I sat up a little and pulled it off. Then Brian unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. I was a little nervous. I don't know why. I guess because I was afraid I'd shoot my load as soon as his mouth had completely enveloped my dick. He seemed a little off balance, too, which was a tad disconcerting. What could ruffle Brian? Certainly not putting a dick in his mouth. The idea that the difference was that it was _my_ dick, that he was so eager to pleasure me this way that he was nervous, made me feel kind of high, like I was floating. In short order, Brian had my pants and underwear (and my shoes and socks) off.

I must say, lying in a field completely naked is a surreal experience. I shivered, but I don't know whether it was the cool breeze or Brian's eyes hungrily roving my body. Probably both, mostly the latter. Especially after he whispered, a tinge of wonder to his voice, "You're…beautiful."

Brian continually claimed that he was stone cold sober, but come on. He was acting like someone had slipped him some Sodium Pentathol. Needless to say, my heart stubbornly refused to beat, and I could barely breathe. I had imagined this very thing (Brian sucking my dick) a million times (probably), but never ever like this. I could never have imagined the reality of it (or the surreality of it, I should say).

Brian leaned down, his cheek lying against my now painfully erect cock, and just sort of breathed me in, which sounds weird and felt weird and made me more nervous, but it turned me like crazy (does that make me a freak?) and kind of touched me, too. Then he started licking my balls. Again, it sounds weird, like the punch line of a raunchy joke, but it felt amazing. Even more so when he had them both in his mouth, sucking on them gently. I arched my back and "mmmm-ed." After he moved onto my dick, I shivered once more, this time because of the cool breeze on my spit-slick balls. It was an incredible shiver.

But fuck, when Brian began licking my shaft, from bottom to top and then started licking and sucking on the head of my cock, I arched my back even more (pushing my dick further inside his mouth) and cried out, "Ohhh Brian!" I was suddenly glad that we were taking things so slow. Every new experience topped all previous experiences; it would be a shame to diminish one by rushing into another. After all, you can only have one first hand job, one first blow job, etc.

Brian took a cue from my back arching and slid his soft, but strong lips (a heavenly combo) further down my shaft. When my entire dick was in his mouth, I involuntarily thrust upward, pushing the tip of my cock into his throat. This didn't faze Brian at all. In fact, he pushed my cock further down his throat and swallowed hard, which was fucking amazing! I moaned loud, "Ohhh, Ohhhhh, yes! Ohhh Brian!"

Brian's eyes lit up then, and he started sucking my cock in earnest. Watching his head bob up and down and his lips tightly wrapped around my shaft was like no other experience (in itself incredible), but what was even better (of course) was the feel of my dick sliding in and out of Brian's tight warm wet mouth all the while Brian drew his tongue along my shaft, tracing patterns on it. I started panting and slid my hands down to Brian's head. First, I caressed his cheeks gently, trailing my fingers along his jaw, and, then, I threaded my fingers into his soft chestnut hair. Before long, I was involuntarily thrusting upward while also pushing his head down. I needed more, just more. I needed tighter spaces, and I needed to reach them faster. Brian chuckled (I think), which made the experience even more mind blowing.

Then (I can't say how long after; everything was a warm, pulsing, melting blur) I was trembling, and my balls were tightening. I thrust upward one more time and then froze, letting out a strangled cry as I shot my load down Brian's throat, which he eagerly swallowed. Then I collapsed, making a sweaty, sated heap of flesh, topped with a bright, bright smile. One that matched Brian's. Then I was in Brian's arms, my head nestled snugly in his neck.

I breathed (in my now trademark stammer-y fashion), "That was…You are…fucking amazing!"

Brian laughed softly and then drawled, "You're preaching to the choir, Sunshine."

I hit him in the shoulder, but I smiled, too. Brian was an arrogant prick, but he was _my_ arrogant prick, and that was only half the story, as I had aptly illustrated in my first crude rendering of Brian so many years ago.


	20. Chapter 20: Denial, Part 1

Before Justin and I had gone to the carnival in our old neighborhood, Justin hadn't spoken to either of his parents in years. Justin'd had a mostly good relationship with his parents, well, on the outside at least. Craig scoffed at Justin's art and made rude comments about his inability (and unwillingness) to play sports. The funny thing was that Craig would always compare Justin unfavorably to me, spouting off about how I was such good soccer player and asking, in exasperation, why couldn't he be more like me. If only he knew how alike we were or how desperately his idea of the perfect manly, sport-playing son wanted to shove his cock in his actual son's ass and fuck him into tomorrow. Sometimes, Craig'd say shit like that in front of me or I'd overhear it while Justin and I were on the phone, but, mostly, Justin, his eyes filled with furious unshed tears, would share Craig's latest insults when I slept over, in the safety of the darkness. I guess it never occurred to him that even if I couldn't see his tears in the moonlight streaming through the window, that I'd have been able to hear them in his voice.

So Craig was a bit of an ass, but Justin's mom, Jennifer, had been pretty supportive of Justin's art. She'd buy him all kinds of art supplies, take him to galleries, and praise his work voluminously. Even after Justin and I ran away, he'd call them, and they'd ask whether he was okay and beg him to come home. That was, of course, until they found Justin's X-rated sketch book. I'd only ever seen it once, and I didn't have a chance to look at more than a couple of pictures. In retrospect, I wish I'd been able to look at them all. I probably would have found quite a few of me, but, unfortunately, I only ever saw pictures Justin had done of Chris Hobbs, a football player in our gym class. I clenched my jaw. Remembering when I'd first glimpsed them, I felt that old cold rage flooding through my chest. I was so fucking jealous back then. Hell, even knowing now that Justin had been crushing on me back then did little to quell my jealousy. I smiled and shook my head. I was fucking hopeless. Anyway, Justin called just one more time after Craig had found this sketchbook (Justin hadn't known that when he called). Craig had not asked whether Justin was okay this time. He'd called Justin a pervert and a fucking faggot and had passed the phone to Jennifer. For the first time since Justin had run away, she hadn't started their conversation with "Where are you? Come home, please. We miss you." She hadn't said anything like that during the call. I had been with Justin (as usual) at the payphone (it wasn't the safest area, and he always called them at night). Justin's face had tightened, and his eyes had grown cold. He hadn't called again. He wouldn't talk about that last call, not for a long time. When he eventually did, he declared, "They don't want a faggot son" and then told me what they'd said, what they hadn't said. We never talked about them again, not until we saw Craig at the carnival and then only briefly.

Since the carnival, Justin had started dazing off a lot more. I knew he was probably thinking about the little girl who had been holding Craig's hand and wondering why his mother had not been with them, wondering about the little girl's brown hair. Hell, I was, too. Craig, Jennifer, and Justin and most of their relatives had blond hair. But Justin was stubbornly refusing to talk about it. That was par for the course. When Justin felt guilty, angry, and/or vulnerable, he simply shut down. Course, I had known him so long that I could easily imagine his thoughts. He most likely felt guilty for severing ties with his mother, for not knowing even that he had a sister, let alone how she came to be. If his mother had separated from Craig, as appeared to be the case, and his sister was really a half-sister, the product of Craig's union with some other woman, his mother might be all alone. His mother's family wasn't exactly warm and loving. He must be drowning in guilt.

I didn't necessarily want to talk about the situation, either; I'd prefer to do something. Engaging in speculation was pointless. Better to find out the details and then make choices. Act. But Justin was the opposite. Right now, as guilty as he might feel, the worst-case scenario was just a possibility. Knowing one way or another might make him feel better, but it would probably make him feel much, much worse. So when I caught him staring off into space and asked what he was thinking about, he'd tell me one of the following pitiful lies:

"An upcoming test."

"A painting I want to do."

"The next show at Lindsay's gallery."

"How Mikey and Ben are doing."

"The leak in the bathroom." (This one always gave me a chuckle.)

I knew Justin was lying because he always looked away when he answered me and never elaborated. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't really complain. Step two of living in denial (after lying) was distraction. So he'd immediately approach me, a big smile on his face, and slip his hands up the back of my shirt or down my pants. Many hand jobs and make out/rutting sessions ensued. Good times.

Then one day, two weeks after the carnival, step two involved his sliding to his knees. But when I felt his warm breath on my naked cock, I growled and pulled him to his feet. I wasn't about to let him blow me as a distraction. Yes, I know. I was now officially insane. This was the second time I'd stopped Justin from sucking my cock. I shouldn't care about the circumstances. For a guy, the response to "Do you want a blow job?" was always "Hell fucking yes!" But I'd had plenty of blow jobs, and Justin was no random trick. When he sucked my dick (in earnest, that is, for more than a few seconds), I wanted him to be thinking only of me (well, and my huge dick). Brandon would laugh his ass off if he could see me now. Acting like a lovesick lesbian.

Justin looked at me in confusion. Through gritted teeth, I declared, "I…want…to…talk."

Justin's eyes grew as wide as saucers. Then he laughed. Loudly. He asked incredulously, "You'd rather talk than get your dick sucked?"

I gritted my teeth once more, but then grinned (weakly) and replied with a firm "Yes."

Unaccountably, Justin was suddenly angry. He hissed, "What the fuck, Brian? I never saw you turn down anyone else's offer of a blowjob before. You've let twinks and trolls galore suck you off! But not me?"

Justin punctuated that question-statement with a push, shoving me away from him roughly. I let my head fall and sighed. Justin turned away, folding his arms on his chest, and then exclaimed hotly, "Before we started dating, I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd let toothless vagrants suck your dick!"

I started giggling. Oops. Wrong answer. Justin whipped around and fixed me with an icy stare, his mouth agape. I protested lightly, "Oh come on. That was funny!"

Justin's eyes brightened then and he cracked a smile. "Yeah…I guess it was…" Then in a harder voice, he added, "My sense of humor notwithstanding, I'm still pissed at you."

I nodded slowly. "I get that." A tinge of bitterness crept into my voice, "I'm a slut, so I should be ready, willing, and able to perform all manner of sexual activities whenever the fancy strikes you."

Justin's face suddenly held a desolate expression, and he whispered, "Brian…"

But I cut him off, agreeing, in an even more bitter tone, "No, you're right. A month ago, I would have gladly accepted a blow job anytime from anyone who didn't have herpes and wasn't a biter, well, or a girl." That elicited a weak smile from Justin. In a softer voice, I continued, "But you… why can't you see that you're different, that everything's different with you?"

Justin simply stared at me, a shocked expression in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.


	21. Chapter 21: Denial, Part 2

The air was heavy, oppressive. Why the fuck had I said that? It was bad enough that I had such lesbianic thoughts at all. Fucking Hallmark bullshit. In general, yes. But…with Justin, it was just true. Everything was different when it was him and me. Course, I still shouldn't have told him. That was a mistake I had been making with increasing frequency. Telling him things I should keep to myself. I had already told him that I loved him. That I thought I always would. I had also made it clear that his low opinion of me, particularly of my former sexual habits, bothered me. A lot.

Justin stepped closer. I instinctively stepped back. He was already too close (in every sense of the word). Justin noticed, of course, and froze, but then moved forward once more. To diffuse some of my discomfort (and to try to explain away my flinching), I attempted a joke: "I swear to God, if you start looking for alien chips…"

Justin didn't even smile. He just stared at me with an intense look in his eyes. His eyes on me, dark and determined, was disconcerting.

Then his hands were on me, running up my chest, over my shoulders, along my neck, down my back, over my ass (as prelude to sliding to his knees, he had stripped me naked). As he touched me, he stared into my eyes, with that same intense look. I had no clue whether it was his eyes or his hands on me, or both, but I trembled a little and suddenly had difficulty breathing.

When Justin whispered huskily, "You're so beautiful," (I'm ashamed to say) my chest constricted, and I felt like I had gotten the wind knocked out of me, to be replaced with tears. They welled up in my chest and nearly poured out of me. I just barely managed to blink them away, but my eyes were probably glistening. I looked down. I had little pride left; few of my feelings remained hidden. But still, I needed to preserve (to try to preserve) some of my dignity, to prevent Justin from seeing just how deeply in love I was with him, how much I needed him to find me…beautiful. At that moment, I despised myself. I knew Justin loved me; I knew he always would, but…maybe not the way I loved him. I couldn't bring myself to believe it, to trust. It was too good to be true.

Justin lifted my chin with one finger, his chest heaving, I couldn't imagine from what. I wouldn't let myself imagine. He whispered, "I love you, Brian. Always, only you." His eyes glistened. I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes tight, still fighting back tears of my own. Suddenly, he was kissing me. He rubbed his lips against mine softly, slowly and then thrust his tongue into my mouth. He slid his hands up to my neck and pulled me closer, kissed me more deeply. And I kissed him back. With a desperation I had never yet felt. My body was thrumming with heat and electricity, but it ached, too. As though I'd held my muscles taut for too long. When Justin moved his hands from my neck and down my back, holding me in his arms, I finally relaxed. I slid my hands around him, one around his waist, one around his neck, pulling us closer together and kissing him even more desperately while also rubbing up against him. Then I started tugging on his clothes. I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulled them down, and, as he kicked them off, drew his shirt up. We broke apart just long enough for me to pull his shirt over his head and then were kissing again, just as passionately as though there had been no interruption. Finally I tugged his underwear down and finally, finally, I could feel his skin on my skin. I touched him everywhere, my hands eagerly roaming his naked form, relishing in the combination of firm, tight muscles and soft skin. Even his body hair was soft. I moaned low in my throat and then broke our kiss. I started licking, sucking, and biting his neck, his nipples, his chest in a trail downward. I was desperate to have his dick in my mouth.

Justin, finally breaching enough of the haze our kissing and rubbing had caused to realize what I was doing, started to protest, but when my lips were firmly wrapped around his cock, he could no longer form words. He simply let out a guttural moan, and, without even thinking, he thrust his cock deeper into my mouth and down my throat. Then when I swallowed around his cock, he threaded his fingers into my hair and cried out, "Oh fuck! Oh God! Oh Brian!" I slid my hands up to Justin's ass and squeezed it even as I pulled him closer, sucking and swallowing desperately. I had never needed to taste him so much. Then he was cumming, so hard that he nearly lost consciousness. I had to hold him up even as I swallowed. Then I was standing and pulling him into my arms. He went limp, burying his head in my chest. I picked him up and carried him to my bed. A moment later, we were snuggling under my duvet. I hated how much I was enjoying it. I didn't even care that my dick was so hard it hurt.

After a few minutes, I said, "You need to find out. About your mom and your sister."

Justin sighed heavily. In a whisper, he replied, "I know." Then he looked up at me, guilt and fear in his eyes. Hesitantly, he asked, "Will you…?"

The look in his eyes just then would have knocked me over if I had been standing. Justin needed me. Maybe…maybe as much as I needed him. I tried to make my voice sound light, but I don't know whether I succeeded. "Of course. Have I ever let you down?"

Nothing could have prepared me for his firm, slightly awed, "No. Never."

I was so fucked.


	22. Chapter 22: Defining Moments, Part 1

Defining Moments, Part 1: Our Real First Kiss

We were 15. It was Christmas. I managed to sneak out after Jack had passed out from too much holiday cheer. Justin's parents were at a Christmas party. When Justin saw me standing there on his porch, Christmas gift in hand, huge, puffy bruise on my right eye, he cringed a little and looked down. Then he shook his head and looked back up, smiling brightly and pulling me in from out of the cold.

I gave him a wooden box with a clip to hold paper, so he could sketch anywhere. The box contained loose sketch paper and a variety of pencils and pastels. He gave me a leather necklace with a cowry shell on it. The shell was dark brown and black and shiny. Justin put it on me with trembling hands. I never took it off.

Then there was eggnog, lots and lots of eggnog, swirling snow, bright colorful lights, and mistletoe. Justin never drank, so he was a lightweight. Like a feather, he flitted and floated and wafted…into my lap. Then he threw his arms around my neck and hugged me tight. With tears in his eyes, he pulled back and looked at me intently, silently. Then he whispered, "How is it possible for a person not to love you?"

I swallowed hard.

Then he was flitting and floating again. He stood up, took my hand, and pulled me first to a standing position and then into the middle of the living room floor. He smiled brightly, through his tears, and said, "Let's dance." I didn't bother pointing out that there was no music.

He pulled me against him and slid his hands around my waist, one hand taking a side trip over my ass. Then he slid his hands up my back and around my neck. When I slid my hands around his waist, he nuzzled my neck and moaned softly, "Mmmm. You smell good." We swayed, and Justin started humming a song that turned out to be "Moon River."

I held Justin close, so close, and even buried my face in his hair.

Justin started singing softly, "Someday…you heart breaker…Wherever you're going, I'm going your way. Two drifters off to see the world; There's such a lot of world to see."

Then more humming…and a final, "Someday," not sung, but whispered.

Then Justin stopped swaying and pulled back. His eyes fluttered languidly. He looked up at me and repeated softly, "Someday…"

Then he looked up above my head. He smiled and breathed, "Mistletoe…"

Then he kissed me. He closed his eyes tight and leaned in. He was a bit wobbly, so he missed, kissing my chin gently. I huffed a laugh and slid my hands to his face, guiding him, guiding his lips to mine. At first the kiss was little more than a gentle press of the lips, but then Justin moaned, opened his mouth, and thrust his tongue inside my mouth. I groaned, pulled him closer, and dove in. I threaded my fingers into his hair and devoured him. He slid his hands down to my ass and pulled my groin against his, rubbing his erection against mine. Then he broke our kiss, buried his face in my neck, whispered, "Brian," and promptly passed out.

I caught him before he fell and carried him to the couch. After I had tucked him snuggly under the throw from the back of the couch, I sat on the floor and leaned against the armchair next to the couch. I don't know how long I sat there watching him, bathed in the red, green, blue, and orange glow of the lights on the Christmas tree. I guess as long as I could take not touching him. After that I scooted along the floor next to the couch until I was near his head. Then I ran my fingers through his hair, leaned in, and whispered, "I don't know how a person could not love you, either. I certainly can't manage it."

Then I lay on the floor next to the couch, looking up at the tree and dreaming about the "someday" Justin had spoken of.

As far as I know, Justin doesn't remember. He never mentioned it. I was afraid that he had just been drunk and hadn't meant any of it, so I never mentioned it, either.

TBC…(soon)


	23. Chapter 23: Haunted

When we were 15, Brian and I spent Christmas night alone together. We…well, I shouldn't say because it never happened. That was my constant mantra for a long time after. "It never happened. It never happened."

I'm getting a little ahead of myself. Let me back track a little. The day after Christmas, I vowed never to drink again. It was just too hard to keep my feelings for Brian in when I was drunk. And it didn't take much to get me hammered.

That morning I awoke with the worst headache known to man. Every time I moved, I felt like I was in a time warp, a nauseating, throbbing time warp. I stumbled off the couch, nearly tripping over Brian, who was lying on the floor, sleeping peacefully. I could barely open my eyes. The sun was too bright, reflecting as it was off the snow blanketing everything.

Eventually, miraculously, I made it to the bathroom and into the shower. As the hot water poured down and over my aching head, I tried to make sense of the fragments of my memory. Did I indirectly tell Brian that I loved him? Did we dance? Did I kiss him? Did he kiss me back? Did…did he…and this was the strangest, foggiest part of my memory…did he indirectly tell me that he loved me? I didn't know. It could simply have been a dream, a beautiful alcohol-fueled dream.

After a thirty-minute shower under nearly unbearably hot water, after drinking about two liters of ice cold water and taking six ibuprofen, I felt mostly human. I set about making breakfast: crispy bacon, eggs, and well-done home fries with extra grilled onions. My favorite. And I watched. I watched Brian sleep. I watched him wake up. I watched him eat, smile, laugh, and talk. I watched him gently, unconsciously touching the necklace I had given him. And I couldn't decide.

Brian said nothing about our festivities the night before, and what he did say, what his body language said, had me perplexed. I ran through the scene from the perspective of a guy who loved his best friend dearly but who was not _in love_ with him. Would he have danced with him? Probably. Would he have let himself be kissed? Probably. Would he have kissed back? Would he have turned a peck on the chin into a full-ledged French kiss? Would he have pulled him closer and thrust his fingers into his hair? No, no, and hell no. Would he have whispered words of love to him after putting him to bed? Probably not. Declarations of 'brotherly love' only mean something when they are heard by the person you are declaring yourself to. Declarations of romantic love, on the other hand, mean something either way. But if my suppositions were true, if Brian was in love with me, why didn't he mention the night before to me? Maintaining a respectful, a kind silence was what a friend did for another friend when their activities could ruin their friendship. When they were embarrassing. When they were regrettable. I sighed. That was it. Brian couldn't be in love with me. He might have let himself go a little in the moment, but he must have realized that it was a mistake. Confusion brought on by a painful home life, alcohol, and maybe a little sexual attraction. I resolved to forget all about the dance, the kiss, and the indirect I love yous. And never to drink again.

I wasn't sure what had gotten me thinking about that night so long ago. Actually, scratch that. No need to lie to myself, too. I thought about it every Christmas. Not just on Christmas night, but throughout the holiday season. Every year, as soon as the first string of lights was hung, like clockwork, memories from that night came flooding back. Lights, trees, snow, eggnog, and Christmas presents all sent some fragment of that bittersweet memory rushing back to me. The way Brian smelled. How tightly he held me as we swayed. How delicious he had tasted. The white-hot fire that had burned through me the moment our lips touched. Every time one such fragment surfaced, leaving me panting and flushed, I repeated my mantra over and over: "It never happened. It never happened. It never happened."

This year, it should have been different. This year, that memory shouldn't still be haunting me. But it was. There was something else nagging me, too, but I knew exactly what that was. The little girl. And my mother. Brian and I had returned to my old house, but it belonged to strangers now. It seemed so wrong, seeing the living room with different furniture. Knowing that the couch on which I'd held Brian so tightly was gone, forever separated from the room in which Brian and I had had so much history. The couple probably wouldn't even put the Christmas tree in the far left corner. There was a piano there now. A big one. Somehow I doubted that they would ever move it, particularly not for a Christmas tree. But that was stupid. How could Brian see the tree from the road if it weren't by the window? All the houses on this road looked similar, and it was always so snowy in winter. We were the only people here whose tree you could see from the road. Of course, none of that mattered now. None of that had mattered in years. It was ridiculous. As ridiculous as aching over a dance and a kiss that happened six years ago. Especially when the object of my affection, my obsession, was currently my boyfriend.

And I shouldn't be haunted by a little girl who might not be any relation to me. Or by memories of a mother who had no longer cared where I was after she learned I was gay. Who had no longer wanted me to come home.

I shouldn't, shouldn't, shouldn't, but I was. Everything just felt unfinished. Like there were holes. Holes I needed to fill somehow and soon. Fall was turning into winter. Winter just made everything ache worse.


	24. Chapter 24: First Snow, Part 1

Today it was sort of warm, 50, I think, but then, a few hours later, the sky turned gray, and big flakes of fluffy white snow started to fall. A few hours after that, everything was blanketed in white. Looking out the window, I sighed. I had hoped that the business with Justin's family would have been settled before Christmas, but that looked less and less possible as time passed.

In the last month, Justin and I had pursued every available avenue, but we had learned less than nothing. First, Justin had contacted his mother's family, but had discovered only that his mother had created an elaborate lie about what he'd been doing for the last five years. He was stunned when his aunt had asked him how he was liking business school in California and whether he'd make it back for Christmas this year or was planning to spend the holidays with his fiancée's family again. You read right. Fiancée as in girl. Or, rather, woman. His aunt neglected to mention Justin's sister, so he imagined that she was, as he had feared, his half-sister. And of course, since, apparently, his mother was only capable of telling her family lies, Justin had no idea what she was really doing or where she really was. He even pushed past his embarrassment and humiliation, mustering up the courage to ask for his mother's number, saying that he had lost his cell phone and thus her number, but his aunt had replied, incredulously, "Didn't she tell you that she and Craig moved again and that their phone isn't hooked up yet?" Justin couldn't have tried Craig's family if he had wanted to. Justin and his parents had rarely visited Craig's parents (Craig was an only child) because they hated Jennifer. They weren't too fond of Justin, either, so Justin didn't have their phone number or address (in fact, he hadn't seen them in a decade). So family connections had been a bust.

The electronics store and the old neighborhood had been another bust. Craig had sold the store, but, to do what, we didn't know (and neither did the new owners). All of the neighbors with whom Justin had been familiar had moved in the last five years, and the people who had bought Justin's old house had no information about the previous owners.

The phone book had been yet another bust. What was most frustrating was that we'd seen Craig in our old neighborhood, so he probably still lived close by, but that didn't make it any easier to find him or Jennifer. Justin's mom must have arranged it so that her number was unlisted, assuming she still lived in Pittsburgh, because we couldn't find it under her married or maiden names. Then again, maybe it was listed, but under a new married name. We had no way of knowing. The former was likely the case. If Jennifer had remarried, she probably would have informed her family, as unpleasant as telling them that she'd gotten divorced in the first place was. The little information we had was maddening. It allowed for so many possibilities. Craig's number was unlisted, too, assuming he still lived in Pittsburgh, though we imagined that he did, since he'd been at the carnival (he couldn't simply have been visiting; his parents didn't even live in Pennsylvania, let alone Pittsburgh).

I wasn't sure what to do next. I'd encouraged Justin to go searching for his family, but it was beginning to look like a fool's errand, and I couldn't help but feel bad for suggesting it. He might have been happier living in denial. At least then, he believed there were answers to be had, if he wished to seek them.

On a more positive note, Justin had basically abandoned his bedroom. He slept with me every night now. I loved holding him at night and waking up with him in the morning (I should have been embarrassed about that, but I wasn't), sometimes waking him up with a blow job (the first morning I'd done that…I'd never seen him more surprised or happy; he was mush for twenty minutes after). Good thing, too (that I wasn't embarrassed by my developing a fondness for cuddling, with Justin that is; I would never have taken to it with anyone else), since I wasn't getting too much more. We'd kind of stalled in the sex department. Justin gave me hand jobs (and often), rutted against me, and let me blow him, but he still hadn't blown me yet, and we weren't fucking (in a conventional sense). Sometimes he would jerk us both off, pushing our lubed cocks together and stroking them with both hands (or I would). And he loved it when I lubed up my cock and thrust along his crack while jerking him off. So much that that had become our regular prelude to sleep. However, I didn't really mind our lack of forward progress. The limitations made me creative. I liked coming up with new ways to get off that didn't involve blow jobs (for me), anal sex, or even rimming (though Justin let me finger him and had begun to reciprocate, a small move forward, but one for which I was quite grateful). I'd discovered all the places on his body that (when massaged, fondled, licked, sucked, or nibbled) made him so hard he couldn't even keep his eyes open, e.g., his lower back (right above his crack), the back of his neck (right at the spine), his nipples, and his left earlobe (though not his right, oddly enough). We'd also started fooling around in 'more public' places, e.g., bathroom stalls, alleys, Mel's office (I'd blown him under her desk), the back of Lindsay's gallery where they unloaded paintings for new exhibits, dark corners of school buildings, and even dark corners of Babylon, though I hadn't yet taken Justin into Babylon's back room (or any other). Justin had even let me spank him (he liked it when I did that before thrusting my dick along his crack).

And I'd discovered that one of my favorite things was having Justin in my lap (us on the couch and naked, our cocks lubed) him straddling me and rubbing his cock up against mine (my hands on his perfect ass) as he pinched my nipples and bit (seriously bit…as in leaving marks) my neck and shoulders. The first time we did that I came so hard I thought I was going to pass out. Go figure. And I was almost absolutely positive we would never have discovered that if we'd been fucking already. We also learned that Justin could make me cum (without his touching my dick) when he fingered me while French kissing me and pulling (as in yanking) my hair. I was a slut for pain (as it turned out). I'd never been comfortable with people spanking, whipping, or flogging me (for obvious reasons) or tying me up or cuffing me (since I was kind of a control freak), but I had been thinking about letting Justin do some of those things to me. I couldn't say why that was suddenly so tempting…maybe I just trusted Justin more than I'd ever trusted anyone (okay, I knew that was true)…and/or maybe I just couldn't resist the juxtaposition of Justin's gentleness and the pain he could cause (when prompted)…the shy and virginal mixed with the filthy. The best part was that he liked being rough, though it still embarrassed him a little. I kind of hoped that he never changed. Was that even possible? For Justin to remain a little innocent, a little nervous? Fuck, I hoped so.

No one would believe it (except maybe our friends), but not only was Brian-Fucking-Kinney, former stud of Liberty Avenue, monogamous (and a cuddler), but also, he hadn't gotten his dick sucked or fucked anyone in two months. The most shocking part was, I'd never been happier. I wouldn't say that I could live this way forever, but I could definitely do so happily for a while longer.


	25. Chapter 25: First Snow, Part 2

I was so scared. Today was the day. In fact, I'd known today would be the day for a week now.

Wait, I'm leaving things out. Let me backtrack a bit. Okay…so I had been desperately wanting to give Brian a blow job, but I was a little intimidated by the number of much more experienced men who'd already sucked Brian off. I'd come close to just doing it a couple of times, but Brian had said I should wait (until I was really ready), which had had the strange effect of making me more nervous. I wanted the first time to be incredible, so I was sort of waiting until I figured out how to do that (make it incredible). I felt kind of bad for Brian, but he didn't seem to mind going without. Despite the stress he had placed on sex (and progressing to it quickly) during our 'bargaining session,' he never pressured me, and he always seemed happy with whatever we did.

Then came the bright idea…Emmett was in the habit of telling me about all his sexual exploits. He'd pretty much done that since we met. One day, a little more than a week ago, he'd told me about a guy he'd been fucking (well, who'd been fucking him) who liked it when Emmett used nipple clamps on him. I didn't even know what they were, but Emmett informed me that they were for people who liked their nipples pinched. His explanation set off all the bells and whistles in my head since Brian loved it when I pinched his nipples while rubbing my lubed cock up against his and sitting on his lap. I can't even tell you how much I loved that…us being completely naked, me in his lap, his hands on my ass, rutting. It was so much better than when we did it lying down. As much as I loved feeling his body pressed up against mine…and his weight on me, what I loved even more was observing the expression in his eyes when he was staring at my naked body. And of course, looking at his while we were rutting just made my orgasms more intense. Plus, I just liked sitting on his lap, naked or clothed…when we were fooling around or watching TV.

I was so nervous the first time Brian asked me to pinch his nipples. But when he asked, he didn't use a talking voice. It was more like a moan. So fucking sexy. How could I say no? Still, I was afraid that I would really hurt Brian. However, the look on his face…and the sounds he made while I was doing it…I nearly came right then.

Of course I didn't tell Emmett why I was interested. No matter how much or how often our friends grilled me for details about our sex life, I wouldn't tell them a single one. Our sex life was for us alone. As crazy as it might sound, or be, coming from a 21-year-old guy, I hated the way our friends told each other everything about their sex lives. (Course, sometimes, they didn't have to, since they often fucked in backrooms and alleys, in clear view of other people). None of the sex they described or that I witnessed was special. None of it was anything like what Brian and I did. Somehow I knew that sharing it with others would cheapen it, so I wouldn't say a word. Neither did Brian, though we'd never talked about keeping it to ourselves. It's like he just knew that's what I wanted.

So Emmett showed me a few different kinds of nipple clamps, but I figured I should go with the simplest (the tweezer-like ones). Unfortunately, I was too embarrassed to buy them locally, so I ordered them online. And they were due to come today. I'd pushed Brian out the door early so I could wait for the delivery (it was all part of my big surprise). I'd also ordered black leather pants and a black silk blindfold. I know…probably overkill…I could have just used one of Brian's neckties, but he only has one silk tie…and something about silk is sexy.

The idea was that I'd blindfold Brian 1) to increase the sensations he experienced while I sucked his dick and 2) to make me less nervous, since his gorgeous (and intense) hazel eyes wouldn't be trained on me…while also using the nipple clamps, since he liked me to pinch his nipples, which would be hard to do while I was blowing him. I figured that that would make it an extraordinary experience for him, and I wanted that so, so, very much. Like I said, I was a little freaked out by the number of men who had sucked him off already. I wanted a blow job from me to be different…and as amazing as it always was when Brian blew me.

***********

I walked into the loft to find Justin lying on the couch in nothing but black leather pants. They were so tight that I could see his erection from the door. He was spread out wantonly. I blinked (to make sure I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing). Then I dropped my briefcase on the floor (I'd been at the law firm) and took off my suit jacket. After laying it on the table by the door, I started toward the couch, loosening my tie and removing it on the way. By the time I reached the couch, my shirt was unbuttoned and, a second later, hanging off a lamp. My belt came off next, landing on the floor under the lamp. Justin had remained where he was, watching me, his eyes dark with desire. But when I unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, he licked his lips. My dick had started to stir the moment I saw him lying on the couch, looking all slutty, his cock hard and ready for me. But when I saw him lick his lips, like he was hungry for my cock, it jumped and became completely erect. I froze for a moment, my pants open but still very much on, and just stared at Justin's lips. They glistened with saliva. Justin bit his lower lip then. I shivered slightly and then shook my head and slid my pants and boxer briefs down (and off, along with my shoes and socks). I was trying not to get too excited, just in case Justin had other plans, but my cock wouldn't listen. It bounced out, hard and leaking, desperate for those plump lips, that hot wet mouth. Justin swallowed hard and then whispered, huskily, "Sit down."

I complied. But I was watching him the whole time. Waiting for a clue as to what he had planned. Justin sat up and then climbed onto my lap. I couldn't hold back a moan when I first slid my hands over his leather-clad ass. He was so fucking hot, in general, but particularly in those pants. Justin straddled me and crushed his lips against mine, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and kissing me so deeply that I couldn't breathe for a minute. I was loathe to remove my hands from his ass, but I needed to tangle them in his silky hair, to deepen our kiss. Justin moaned softly in my mouth, but then broke away breathless and flushed. His eyes were almost closed, but then they fluttered open, so slowly. My heart actually stopped for a moment. He was so beautiful.

I was so rapt just looking at Justin…I couldn't have been more surprised by what he said or, rather, whispered. He leaned his cheek against mine and breathed, a little nervously, "Do you want me to suck your cock?"

I closed my eyes for a moment to ride out the shiver his question had initiated and then replied, my voice breaking slightly, "Ye-es." I kind of wanted to push him down to his knees and press my dick against his lips, I mean, I'd actually had a couple of dreams about his mouth wrapped around my dick, but I needed to be sure he was ready and then let him go at his own pace…the first time. After that, all bets were off. So after a pause, I asked, "Are you sure?"

Justin, still unable to look at me, nodded. Then he whispered, "I need your dick in my mouth…down my throat. I want to taste you so badly."

Fuck yeah!

Then Justin smiled shyly and said, "I got you a present. Well, two, actually."

As if the leather pants weren't enough.

Justin leaned back and blushed a little as he pulled something out of his pocket.

Nipple clamps.

My breathing was suddenly ragged. Justin looked at me uneasily. "Do…do you want to try them?"

I smiled and nodded. They were, as I had been discovering, right up my alley.

Tentatively he asked, "Do you want to…"

I smiled again and shook my head. Justin swallowed hard and then gently slipped one on. He looked up at me nervously as he started to push down the circular metal piece for tightening and said, "Tell me when to stop."

God…everything…his gentle touch…the feel of leather (and Justin's erection) against mine…the metal…it was so fucking hot. I grabbed Justin's ass and pulled his groin closer. I was dying for friction…something. After grinding against him a couple of times (eliciting a sharp intake of breath on Justin's part), I closed my eyes, lost in a wave of pleasure. Then finally, I said, "Stop."

Justin removed his hands quickly, as though he were afraid he'd hurt me. I opened my eyes and smiled. "Perfect. Do the other one."

Justin was still flushed, but he smiled and obliged. When he'd gotten the second one on and tightened, he looked at me anxiously. "Are they okay? It doesn't hurt too much, does it?"

I drawled, "Just enough."

Justin smiled happily and then pulled something from behind a couch cushion. My eyes widened. Justin's cheeks were tinged with pink as he explained, "It's a blindfold."

I laughed. "I can see that."

"I thought…that…"

I should have just said it was okay (I really didn't mind; with anyone else, I would have, but this was Justin), but a stammery, blushy Justin was fucking adorable. Instead I quirked an eyebrow.

"I read somewhere that not being able to see enhances your other senses."

I nodded slowly.

Justin looked down and shook his head. "But, I mean, if you don't like the idea, we don't have to use it…"

I lifted Justin's chin with a finger and smiled, my eyes no doubt twinkling. "Put it on me."

Justin smiled brightly. Just as he reached around my neck, I teased, "Are there handcuffs back there, too?"

Justin froze. "What? No…no."

"That's a shame."

Justin's eyes widened. "You want me to handcuff you?"

My voice dropped low as I replied, "I was thinking…earlier…I might like it if you did it."

Justin swallowed hard, and, though I didn't think it possible, his eyes widened even more. In a tiny voice that made my chest ache, he asked, "No one's ever done that to you before?"

I shook my head.

I could actually feel Justin tremble beneath my hands. He looked down, and in an impossibly tinier voice, he inquired, "And this?"

I whispered, "No."

Justin's head shot up, and a smile crept over his lips. That had to be a first…Justin actually happy about something involving my past sexual history. And yes, my heart swelled a bit. I fucking loved making my Sunshine happy.

TBC…soon…I'm seriously writing like molasses…no like nearly frozen molasses…


	26. Chapter 26: First Snow, Part 3

With a little more confidence, Justin placed the blindfold around my eyes and tied it behind my head. As soon as it was fastened, I felt Justin's weight shift slightly and suddenly Justin's lips were on mine. A gentle press and then a brush. Next he traced my lower lip with his tongue. It took everything in me not to thread my fingers through his hair, pull him against me roughly, and plunder his mouth. I was so turned on already. But I liked the idea of his playing with me at his leisure. Soon, he gave me what I wanted, crushing his lips against mine and thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I kissed him back eagerly, but he kind of left me hanging a couple minutes in, pulling away suddenly. He must have found my attempt to keep it going amusing because he laughed his beautiful musical laugh, the one I'd loved since we were 10. And then he did something I should have expected, but, of course I didn't. He licked my neck and my earlobe and then, while also tugging the chain connecting the nipple clamps (gently), he bit my right shoulder, hard. I threw back my head and moaned. "Fuck, ohhh fuck."

Another beautiful musical laugh, and then, he was all business again, sliding to his knees (I could feel the leather rubbing gently against my skin, which was fucking amazing). He caressed my thighs, moving his hands all the way up to my groin, but then away. Then he leaned in. I could feel his hair brush my thigh and then his nose buried in my pubes. But again, he moved away, this time, however, moving back slow and exhaling warm puffs of air against my cock. It twitched in response to each one, as though my cock were a heliotropic plant following its sun (Justin). And my bio teacher thought I slept through every lecture (okay, I slept through most of them, but only because he told us nothing that wasn't in our textbook).

When Justin was sitting back up all the way (I could tell because my dick was suddenly experiencing a chill), he unexpectedly tugged on the chain once more. I moaned a deep body moan. In response, I actually heard Justin draw his breath in sharply and (I think) lick his lips. He poked the head of my cock with the tip of his tongue and then sucked on it a little, like you would the top of an ice cream cone. After that, he snaked his tongue down along my shaft and then swirled it back up, up and down, up and down, until he'd licked every inch of my cock. So far, this was the weirdest experience my cock had ever had, but apparently, my cock liked it because it replaced and then some the precum Justin had sucked off previously.

Then Justin licked my balls, first one, then the other, with dabs, swipes, and swirls of the tongue and finally took one in his mouth and sucked on it gently before taking the other in as well. Justin was seriously torturing me (and my cock). The more he played, the heavier my panting got, and the more my cock throbbed. It'd never been neglected this way (all the tricks who'd blown me had wolfed it down, or tried to wolf it down, right away). Then as the pièce de résistance of torture, Justin released my balls and started breathing warm puffs of air on them. I don't think I have ever shivered quite like that…it was warm and cold and tingly. I felt like moaning and laughing at the same time.

Justin did the ice cream cone suck again, but then swirled his tongue on the tip, and finally, finally, took the head of cock completely into his mouth, licking around it even as he sucked (and hard). He also surprised me with a chain tug. All of this together caused me to cry out, "Ohhh fuck!" I could feel Justin smile around my dick, but then he was back on task, sliding my cock deeper into that warm wet chasm. I shivered again, but this time it was warm and suffused throughout my body. I bit my lip to stop myself from thrusting into his mouth, and, without even meaning to, I also growled in pleasure and frustration (Justin was taking my cock into his mouth slowly, inch by inch).

When his lips were finally at the base of my cock, the tip in his throat, he poked his tongue out and licked the top of my balls. I "mmmed" and then moaned when Justin started bobbing his head fast, sliding his perfect lips along my cock, taking it in and out of his warm wet mouth, sucking hard and licking my shaft as he did so. Each time, he seemed to take the tip of my cock deeper into his throat. Despite the fact that I was already blindfolded, I had squeezed my eyes tight, and I was panting like a sweaty dog or a woman in labor. Maybe not that obviously or much…but much louder and more quickly than I was accustomed to doing. Justin slipped his hands under me so that he could use my ass to push my cock further in (and I imagine for leverage). I did thread my fingers into Justin's hair then and even fisted it, but I didn't thrust deeper into his mouth. I was already so close. If I had quickened the pace at all, I would have cum right then. But of course, that was the point when it was no longer my call. Justin dove down harder and faster, shoving my cock deeper down his throat and swallowed hard while also tugging on the chain (this time less gently). I whispered, "Justin" just as my orgasm ripped through my body and poured out of me into his eager mouth and then (you'll never fucking believe it), the world went black (well, blacker, since I still had the blindfold on). Justin had achieved what hundreds of tricks had failed to do, rend me of consciousness. When I came to, I was lying on the couch, nipple clamps and blindfold off, Justin nestled snuggly in my arms. I couldn't even move a finger or an arm (to hold him tighter).

I barely managed to whisper, "Sunshine, that…that was fucking incredible."

I could feel Justin's million-watt smile against my neck. Definitely, definitely, worth the two-month wait.


	27. Chapter 27: Someday, Part 1

Brian and I were going to host a Christmas party this year.

As a couple.

I almost did a back flip when _Brian_ suggested it two weeks before Christmas.

Yup. You read right. The Christmas party was all Brian's idea. Brian had gone without sex for 76 days. But he didn't even mention my "giving it up" in exchange for doing something…so domestic.

It went like this.

"Shit!" I sighed mournfully. "I shouldn't have had two shots before we left. I am, as ever, a cheap date."

Brian kissed my lips gently. "Ain't nothing cheap about you, Sunshine. Just ask my dick."

I beamed. Indeed not. 76 days.

Then Brian shook his head, as if trying to recapture his train of thought. "So…why shouldn't you have uh indulged? The Babylon pre-show was your money-saving idea."

I sighed again. "I know, but…"

"But what?"

"I left my lucky penny back at the apartment!"

Brian did his best not to laugh. He bit his lip and made a choking sound, but his eyes were mocking me. Bright dancing beautiful (sea green now) mocking eyes.

I stopped and half-turned. "I gotta go back!"

Suddenly serious about his attempt to be serious, Brian cleared his throat and blinked slowly. Twice. Then he asked, "Can't you just find a new one?"

I shrugged. "Without my lucky penny, I doubt I'd have the luck to find a lucky penny…"

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth and closed his eyes. Then he opened one eye halfway, peering at me. That half eye, too, mocked me. But really, the logic was sound.

"I guess I can try."

Brian laughed and clapped me on the back. "That's the spirit!"

I half-laughed and rolled my eyes. Then I trained them on the ground, squinting to try to distinguish possible pennies from shadows in the snow.

Rock. Flip-top from a can of soda. Washer. Patch of gum (on a piece of sidewalk untouched by snow). Cigarette pack foil. Bottle cap.

I sighed and shook my head, but kept my eyes on the ground. "It's hopeless." But just then, I saw something glinting in dim glow of the streetlamps. "Ah!" I bent down, all the way (my face was a couple inches from the ground). Brian groaned. I smiled a million-watt smile. Brian so wanted me. And when I had confirmed that the object laying an inch or two down (in the snow) was, in fact, a penny and, even better, heads up, my smile grew into a billion-watt-er. I picked it up, quickly stripped off my glove, and moved my head until it was half an inch from my hand. "Wow!"

In my peripheral vision, I saw Brian bury his face in his hands. I could hear him laughing. Fucker.

"It's from 1959! I never find pennies that old!"

More laughing.

"You know, in 1959, Alaska became a state…Mattel released the first Barbie…and the Twilight Zone first aired. I think this is the best lucky penny I've ever found!"

Brian looked over at me then. "You are _so_ weird." Sounds like an admonishment, doesn't it? Like Brian was embarrassed to be dating such a nerd, but Brian's face was wearing this strange expression, and he was smiling. A soft smile. I just kind of gaped. I suddenly felt very sober. Was he having the you're-just-beautiful-to-me-any-way-you-come moment? Like so many years ago when a smelly Brian with bedhead, wrinkly clothes, and butter on his face took my breath away? I didn't know…but the look on his face...

Unexpectedly, Brian pulled me hard against him, while simultaneously threading his fingers through my hair and plunging his tongue in my mouth. He kissed me until I felt drunk again. Then he pulled away, kissed my lips gently, and slid a hand into mine. That's when he said, "We should throw a Christmas party this year. We could even try cooking a ham…or a turkey and all the other shit that comes with it. Yams…mashed potatoes…green bean casserole. Oh, and 7 layer jell-o. Maybe even Christmas cookies."

The 1959 penny was most definitely the luckiest penny I'd ever found.

I was amazed and ready-to-do-cartwheels happy. But I hadn't seen nothing yet.


	28. Chapter 28: Someday, Part 2

At 9pm on Christmas night, our guests arrived. We'd invited Lindsay and Mel to our Christmas party, but they'd gone to see Mel's family. However, Brandon, Mikey and Ben, Daphne, Emmett, and Ted all came.

Brandon was dressed, as usual, in silk and leather, this time, a red-purple silk shirt and white leather pants.

(What people were wearing really does matter, at least to me, tonight).

Mikey was dressed, as usual, in a T-shirt and jeans, this time, a Superman T-shirt and dark blue jeans. Ben was dressed, as usual (if the last month and a half were any indication), in jeans and a plain button down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, two buttons unfastened, this time, a hunter green shirt and black jeans.

Daphne was dressed, as usual, in a flowing blouse and tight silk pants, this time, a sea green and grey paisley shirt and grey pants.

Emmett was dressed, as usual, in bright clothing, this time, a gauzy pink button down and silver pants.

Ted was dressed, as usual, in a cotton long sleeved button down shirt and dark pants, this time, a blue and white vertical striped shirt and navy pants.

Brian was wearing, as he sometimes did, a black V-neck sweater and jeans, and, as he always did, the cowry shell necklace I'd given him six Christmases ago. It looked amazing against his bronze skin.

I was the only one who'd dressed differently. After much cajoling and flattery, and a brain-melting blow job, Brian had persuaded me to wear the black leather pants I'd bought a month before, as well as a red silk shirt, which Brian had given me as an early Christmas present. As had become our custom, we always exchanged Christmas presents late, late Christmas night. Once I was dressed, I took three steps out of Brian's bedroom before (after glancing around out our guests, who were all standing in the living room area) doing an about face and taking the three steps back in.

What had freaked me out? Brandon. When I'd seen him, I'd wanted to cry.

I was dressed like a fucking hustler. And not just any hustler. Like Brandon. Someone I kind of hated and was terribly jealous of (I'm pretty sure he popped Brian's cherry).

When Brian had suggested the outfit, I was effectively drunk (after that brain-melting orgasm). I hadn't thought about what other people would be wearing, what Brandon would be wearing. The moment I stepped into Brian's room, I started unbuttoning my shirt. By the time Brian came in a minute later, I was half out of the leather pants, too.

Brian closed the door and leaned against it. Then, in his stupidly sexy drawl, he asked, "Sunshine, whatcha doing?"

"Chang--ing." I grunted as I writhed on Brian's bed, trying to pull the leather pants off (they were really, really tight).

Brian, seeing me like this, couldn't help but laugh. I muttered, "Asshole."

Then Brian got it together, blinking a couple of times and schooling his expression. "Why?"

With a soft zip, the pants finally gave. I oophed. Then I stood, naked now (no I wasn't wearing anything underneath the pants), and stomped over to Brian, well as much as a naked person can. I tried to look fierce, as I accused, "You wanted me to look like Brandon!"

A simple "no" was the response.

I gestured toward the door helplessly. Had Brian not seen what Brandon was wearing? What, in fact, he was always wearing?

I shook my head and looked down. "Is it because he was your first? That you want me to look like him?"

Brian was literally taken aback (he moved his head back and opened his eyes wide). "My first? My first what?"

"You know, your _first_. People say you never forget that person. Course, he's still very much in your life, not giving you a chance to forget him. So, I mean, is that why you think his look is sexy?"

Brian buried his face in his hands for a moment and then drew his hands down slowly. "His look? It's not _his_ look. Long before he was a hustler, people decided leather and silk were hot. And he was _not_ my first. I never fucked Brandon, and he sure as hell never fucked me. And, that bit about remembering firsts…bullshit. My first was eminently forgettable."

"What! But I thought…"

Brian snapped, "What? What did you think?"

I swallowed hard and turned around. Brian pulled me into his arms then. I whispered, "You really never…?"

"I really never."

"Then who?"

"Like I said, eminently forgettable."

"You really don't remember?"

"No-o. I don't." I wasn't sure, but that "no" sounded a little strangled at first. Like it was painful coming out. But the "I don't" part…Brian said that in his usual drawl. "So squeeze back into those leather pants…I'm hungry."

Brian stepped back, and I turned around. "Brian…"

"No excuses, Sunshine. You promised."

"Argh…but you had my dick in your mouth and your finger in my ass when you asked…so unfair…I would have promised anything."

"Nevertheless…"

"Everyone will laugh…"

"They weren't laughing before…besides, you should only be thinking about me…your boyfriend." He drew his hand up to his chest. Then he shook his head and laughed. "Isn't that fucking surreal? Brian Kinney, a boyfriend." After another incredulous head shake, he added, dropping his voice so low that my dick began to stir, "I want to feel your perfectly rounded ass in leather all night…"

I groaned. "Okay." But then I smiled. I liked the idea of Brian's dick being hard for the entire party. Because of me. And my black leather pants.

TBC…soon…sorry this is taking so long (and the first two parts were so short). The next one will be a lot longer


	29. Chapter 29: Someday, Part 3

I'm not a violent guy. I find, in most cases, that a scathing look or crippling comeback suffices. If I'm really pissed, I might draw your trick to greener pastures, i.e., me. Well…I used to do that.

But I'd been a lot less angry since Justin and I had started dating. How could I not be (less angry)? A dream had come true. That shit just doesn't happen. And sure as fuck not to me. I thought, ten years from now, I'd be drinking myself into oblivion at Justin and Frank's commitment ceremony (Frank or Bob or Steve….or Robert or Timothy or who the fuck ever…some doctor or grant writer out to save the world). Get too drunk to make a toast. Save myself the humiliation of saying that just as Justin's life was beginning, mine was ending. Granted, it could still happen. But now I had a shot.

I had a shot. I didn't deserve it. I knew that. Justin deserved so much more, so much better, than some kicked-around piece of trash…and an ex-hustler…and an ex-manwhore from a long line of drunks. But I was trying. Trying to prove I was good enough. And not just to Justin. Law school…interning at Mel's office…relative celibacy as I waited (as patiently as I could) for Justin to be ready. To deem me good enough. I know, I know. Justin would immediately correct me if I put it in those terms. But that was the fucking truth. What made him nervous and uncomfortable was the fact that there had been so many other men. He didn't want to be just one of a thousand others. And I didn't blame him. But I knew, _I knew_, that once he was comfortable, he'd be mine forever, provided that I never cheated on him, which I would be insane to ever do (that would be the height of self-destructive tendencies…and knowing myself… yeah…I was more than a little afraid). So I waited. Waited to be clean again. Worthy enough.

Sorry about the melodramatic turn…I don't have anyone I can really tell these things to. Except Justin. I could always tell him, and only him, anything. Everything. Well almost. I can't tell him this. Just like I can't tell him about the hustling, though I know he knows. He'd ask why and then I'd break his heart. He might never be able to look at me again for guilt. And he'd cry (really cry) if he thought I saw things (the waiting for sex) the way I did. But that's how things actually are.

Okay…so back to me not being a violent guy. I'm really not, but, for Justin, I can see myself becoming just that. And for stupid shit…like Mikey and Ben and Ted staring at his ass. Even Emmett took a few peeks, though he had the decency to be embarrassed about it. Brandon was the only one who liked dick (read, not Daphne) who had the courtesy not to check out my boyfriend's ass. Brandon was a great many things, trash like me, but I guess that's exactly why he knew better. He knew what Justin was to me, in a way that no one who's felt…who's been made to feel…well like we have…could fail to see. Justin was my redemption. And you just don't treat someone's redemption like meat.

Justin couldn't understand why Brandon and I were still friends. Justin hated him, in fact, and I know why. He had every reason to hate him (though one less now that he knew Brandon wasn't my first). Brandon didn't pretend. Ever. That's why I needed him around. He viewed the world like I did. That isn't to say that Justin doesn't understand me or know me better than anyone else. But there are just some things you can't understand unless you experience them. I thanked a God I didn't believe in every day that Justin would never understand some parts of me.

I probably ended up making myself crazier…keeping Justin on my lap or back against me in my arms (if we were standing), but that kind of crazy (nearly cumming in my jeans on several occasions) seemed preferable to nearly killing someone. Yeah, I know. Scary crazy. But…about Justin, that's me. If anyone ever hurt him…well, let's just say that that person would suffer. A lot.

So…you probably want to know about the party. Get out of my fucked up head.

Okay…let's see…let me start with a the cooking, which actually happened, obviously, before the party. We'd decided on roast beef because Justin wanted to make gravy for the potatoes from scratch.

"Why can't we just use the dry mix for gravy?"

Justin wrinkled his nose cutely. "That's as bad as using potato flakes."

"I like mashed potatoes made from potato flakes."

"You do not!"

"I do, too. They're lighter and NOT lumpy." (We alternated with the cooking duties. We had since getting the apartment)

Justin put his hands on his hips. "What are you trying to say? That my mashed potatoes are lumpy?"

"If the lumps fit…"

Justin threw his arms up. "What does that even mean?" My little drama princess.

I laughed then and licked my lips. "I don't know…but it sounded good." Then Justin was in my arms, licking the curve of my neck and my earlobe and, a few seconds after that, kissing me. So deeply that I felt like he knocked the wind out of me. But keep that to yourself. Needless to say, we did NOT make the potatoes and gravy from flakes or powder. Nope. We boiled, peeled, and then cut and mashed potatoes…and mixed roast beef drippings with flour to make the gravy.

The seven layer Jell-o was my favorite part. We had to chill the casserole dish for 20-30 minutes after adding each layer (4 plain jell-o, 3 that white sour cream stuff plus some jell-o).

We spent red on the couch making out, Justin straddling me, but…unfortunately clothed.

For pink, I got his clothes off. I spent the entire time licking and sucking and nibbling on various parts of him…his neck (at the pulse point), his left earlobe, his shoulders (a newly discovered erogenous zone), his nipples, and then his neck again (the back right at the spine) and his lower back (right above his crack).

Justin was so turned on by then that I had to mix and pour orange by myself. Then I jerked him off, slow. So slowly that he moaned, mewled, and begged (for release).

We spent light orange cuddling (again I had to mix and pour by myself. Justin couldn't move for a while).

Yellow was all about me. Justin brought out the nipple clamps and handcuffs (an early Christmas present). He pushed me up against a pillar, pulled my arms around it behind me and cuffed my hands, and then stripped my pants off and dropped to his knees. This was actually a red-letter day. Until then, every time Justin had sucked me off, he'd blindfolded me. Now that was incredible…every sensation heightened (that first time, as you no doubt remember, I blacked out). But this…seeing him drawing his tongue along my shaft…swirling his tongue over the tip, sucking my dick…rolling my balls in his mouth…was…I have no words for what it was. The sight hurtled me to the edge so quickly that I struggled to at least last until the buzzer went off. Ten minutes of absolute torture (Justin spent the first ten getting me ready). The worst part was that I couldn't touch him. Couldn't run my fingers through his hair or caress his cheek when he looked up at me with wide, scared eyes.

We spent light yellow in the shower, just running soapy hands over every inch of each other's bodies and kissing.

Green was the infamous blow job I gave Justin, complete with prostate massage, which was so "brain-melting," as he called it, that he promised to dress all slutty for the party. Go me.

The cookies were actually a three-day event. For three days, every available surface was covered with flour and balls of dough, little bowls of frosting, naked cooling cookies, and/or those in various stages of decoration. I'm still finding sprinkles everywhere, and I swept and mopped. Twice. Look there's one right there, under the coffee table. Purple. Fucking Christ. Come summer, we're gonna get ants.

So…other than it being a total pain in the ass space wise, the cookie making was kind of fun. Justin got frosting and bits of dough all over him. As well as patches of flour. So it was a like playing roulette. I spent three days licking Justin. Like he was a South American frog. Never knowing whether he'd taste sweet or…whatever the fuck flour tastes like...don't have a word. Unappetizing to say the least. Course…the skin beneath…that was another story altogether.

Okay…so that was the cooking and baking…

There was also two days of decorating. Two days of listening to fucking Johnny Mathis and hanging garland and colored balls…plus then decorating the tree. A habit (Johnny Mathis + decorating) he picked up from his mother (thank you so very much Jennifer). At least he didn't share her Neil Diamond fetish (the one concert she ever went to was for Neil Diamond, and she went in her late-30s). That would have been intolerable.

Now…here's where Justin knows me better than anyone else could…better than I would ever let anyone else know me. In addition to Johnny Mathis, he also played the Muppet Movie soundtrack. He said he liked it, but I knew he was playing it for me. I liked the soundtrack, especially the first two songs (and the movie). Fucking sue me. Since you can't ever spread this around, I'll even admit that listening to the _Rainbow Connection_ gets me a little teary. Justin knows this. We must have played the damn record a million times as kids (it was a Christmas present for Justin from his mom). So now…during the Christmas season, Justin drags out that and the Johnny Mathis. I moan when I hear the _Rainbow Connection_ start up (it's the first track), and Justin topples me onto the couch and tickles me, saying, "But I like it, so deal." Every year. Except that this year, the tickling led to kissing and then Justin naked in my lap, straddling me, us rutting and kissing some more.

Turning back to the party…after dinner, we (me and Justin) were on the couch. We'd broken out the eggnog and turned on the radio. After Justin had had one, I said, "No more, tonight. I want you sober."

TBC…(I'm gonna pause here and post the last part of the update a little later)


	30. Chapter 30: Someday, Part 4

After dinner, we (Brian and me) were on the couch. We'd broken out the eggnog and turned on the radio. After I'd had one, he said, "No more, tonight. I want you sober." I waited for him to explain, but he didn't elaborate. Then, at Daphne's instigation, Emmett poked me, so I quickly forgot about Brian's ambiguous pronouncement.

Emmett bit his lip and then, eyebrows waggling, asked, "So is your new…um…_ensemble_ an outward sign of some inward change?"

I laughed. "What?" I didn't know where he was going with this line of questioning, but I had a bad feeling.

"Are you and Brian (in a stage whisper) _doing_ _it_?"

That got everyone's attention. I suddenly felt hot all over. Shit. I was probably blushing. Brian was smiling against my neck. I tried to speak, but no words came. I just kind of gaped.

Brian ended up answering for me. "Are we _doing it_? What are you two, twelve?"

Daphne giggled. "Maybe we are twelve. But at least we're not twelve-year-old _girls_! What are you two doing, waiting for marriage? I hate to rain on your parade, Brian, but cherries can't be regrown."

Brian just blinked.

I chided, "Daph!"

Brandon interrupted, saying,"So last night, to celebrate Christmas eve, one of my clients painted my dick with strawberry sauce and plain frosting. Looked like a candy cane. He had a grand ole time sucking on it."

I laughed (actually, everyone did), but then I ewww-ed.

Brandon shrugged. "Different strokes."

Ben laughed once more and shook his head. Then he smiled. "So Justin, dinner was delicious! You're a fantastic cook."

I smiled and looked down. Softly, I said, "I didn't do it by myself. Brian and I made dinner together."

Everyone gaped. I continued to beam (at the floor), and Brian cleared his throat.

Out of the blue, Mikey started giggling (he'd had a few eggnogs already). "Brian-Fucking-Kinney not just co-hosting a dinner party…no, no. No! But cooking! Did you help with the baking, too?"

I tried to hide my smile, which was growing in wattage by the second, but it broke free and blinded the room. Brian cleared his throat again and looked down.

"OH MY GOD! Do you have his and his aprons? Oh no…no…I bet Brian's says 'Kiss the cock!'" He nearly choked he was still giggling so hard. Then he wiped away a few tears and shook his head. "No one…no one will ever believe it."

Emmett tilted his head and, in a soft voice, said, "Actually, sweetie, I think that they would. You know how people have been talking…" He kind of trailed off.

That got my attention. "What do you mean?" Both Emmett and Brian sighed (that, Brian's sigh, sent my eyebrow skyward), while everyone else suddenly found the floor interesting. I started picking at the hem of my shirt. I prodded, though uneasily, "Em…"

Emmett shook his head and then looked back up at me. "Baby, you don't want to know."

Brian rested his forehead against my back.

My skin burned. I swallowed hard and said, "Tell me."

"Well…uh…someone must have heard that you two didn't have sex right away."

I didn't believe it possible, but my skin burned even hotter then. "Em, you didn't tell someone, did you?" I knew I sounded desperate, but I couldn't help it.

Emmett folded his hands and, with pleading eyes, replied. "I didn't. I swear, I didn't! I mean, I do like to talk…everyone knows that, but not about this! Someone must have overheard our conversation the day after you two started dating."

I responded with a deflated "oh." After a long pause, I continued, my voice firmer now, "Okay. Tell me."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. Brian held me a little tighter.

"Um…well…people have noticed that though you come to Babylon a lot, and have since before you and Brian were together, you never go near the back room. They've also noticed that Brian hasn't been tricking in the last few months."

I crossed my arms. "And from that, they've concluded what?"

My eyes lost focus. I couldn't see anything. Just grey. I heard people clearing their throats. I imagined that they were all still studying the floor, but with even greater scrutiny now.

"Um…that you're…"

Brian interrupted, stating coldly, "The nasty queens on Liberty think that you're at best a prude and at worst a virgin and that I'm a eunuch. That you've turned me into a eunuch."

"What?!! I…" I gaped for a moment. Then I shook my head and looked down. The world had come back into focus, but I couldn't meet anyone's eyes. "Is that what you all think? That I've castrated Brian, turning him into some pathetic version of himself? Or another person entirely?"

Emmett protested, "Baby, no…"

But I wasn't listening. In a whisper, I continued, "Is that what you think, Brian? Do you regret being with me?"

Brian didn't have a chance to answer. The DJ was talking now. Saying my name. "Time for requests. The first song goes out to Justin. I wouldn't normally play this one; it's an oldie, for sure. But a goodie. And the person who requested it told me an interesting story about two lovers who missed a few chances to be together. After six years, they've finally got it right. So here's Moon River. From Brian to Justin. 'Someday is finally here.'"

TBC…(work's been kicking my butt. But I managed to write this. I'll have to write one more part before moving onto QAF Babies. I didn't expect it to take so long to get from point A to point B)


	31. Chapter 31: Someday, Part 5

I froze. Then I stood, jumping straight up, my body wooden. I felt so exposed. Moon River…the dance…the kiss…wasn't something I wanted to share with anyone but Brian. If I felt exposed, what must Brian be feeling? Why had he done it? When Frank Sinatra reached 'someday' (Moon river, wider than a mile/I'm crossin' you in style someday), I reached down and turned the volume not only all the way down but all the way off, with a snap. I let that question (Why?) wash through me. I suddenly felt like I was in a trance. Brian remembered (I knew he was sober enough to remember the next day, but 2190 days had passed since then). And not just that, he wanted to remind me. As if I could ever forget, drunk or no.

"Someday is finally here."

Had he held onto that night the way I had? Desperately wishing I would mention it? Aching more with each passing day that I didn't? I swallowed hard. Without meeting anyone's eyes, least of all Brian's, I said, "Could you guys go?"

Brandon and Ben hadn't raised their eyes from the floor. But Daphne, Emmett, Ted, and Mikey exchanged uncomfortable glances. Then Daphne said, "Sure. Will we see you guys tomorrow?"

I nodded. "Yeah." Then I laughed softly, or tried to. "Course."

Everyone but Brian (and me; I was already standing) got up. Shot up was more like it. They raced for their coats and then the door, muttering, "Great party" and "Thanks." Two minutes after I had first stood, Brian and I were alone. Brian turned the volume back up just when Frank Sinatra began singing, "Two drifters, off to see the world/There's such a lot of world to see/We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend/My huckleberry friend, Moon River, and me."

Someday really was finally here.

Still not looking at Brian, in fact, facing away from him, I asked, "Why would you do that?"

Brian stood and slid his arms around my waist. "What?"

In a whisper, I continued, "I mean…in front of everyone."

Brian moved closer, leaning his head against the back of my neck. "You want to be different. You want me to be different with you."

"I already am. You already are. You always were. " I could feel Brian shrug.

"Why would what they think of me matter?" More softly, he continued, "All I've ever cared about was what you thought of me."

I spun around in Brian's arms and looked up into his eyes. I shook my head and swallowed hard. "I thought you were trying to be kind."

Brian's eyes widened slightly. "When?"

"Six years ago. I…I thought you'd seen what I thought of you…what I felt for you…and were being kind. Protecting our friendship. Protecting me from rejection."

Brian shook his head. "You were pretty drunk. I wasn't sure you remembered." His voice a shade lower, huskier, he added, "and I was afraid you hadn't meant any of it."

"I told you that I loved you…and I kissed you. I even grabbed your ass."

Brian shrugged. "People make mistakes when they're drunk."

"Loving you…wanting you…could never be a mistake."

"The jury's still out on that one, Sunshine." Brian tried to smile.

"Don't do that."

"What?"

"You call me Sunshine when you want to distance yourself from me. I'm more than a pretty idea in your head. I'm a flesh and blood person, here, with you."

Brian shivered slightly (I think). Maybe it was me.

"You weren't a mistake…aren't a mistake…"

"Now who's being kind?" Brian laughed. His voice hoarse, he added, "But I'll take it. I'll take it all."

Brian threaded his fingers through my hair, drew me closer, until his lips were about an inch from mine. On a whim, I tilted my head downward and kissed Brian's chin. A slow lingering peck. Just like I had six years ago. A fumble-y oops the first time.

Brian's breathing was suddenly shallow, and his eyes intense. Then he tilted my head back up and leaned in, guiding my lips to his…and God, my heart skipped a beat.

Brian brushed his lips against mine so softly.

He traced his tongue along my lower lip so slowly.

He pressed his lips against mine so gently.

Then he plunged his tongue into my mouth.

He kissed me deliberately. And deep. So deep. Like he'd never meant "it" more. It = what he was trying to tell me every time he kissed me, even six years ago, though I didn't know it then. Fuck, according to him, he'd fallen for me at 11, though he didn't really understand his feelings until 3 years later. I suddenly ached everywhere. I moaned softly. Unexpectedly, Brian pulled away. My eyes fluttered open.

Brian suggested, "Let's dance."

"But the song's over." And it was. The DJ was playing The Gathering's Saturnine now. That was a dedication of a completely different nature.

"The day you went away. You had to screw me over. I guess you didn't know all the stuff you left me with is way too much to handle. But I guess you don't care. You don't need to preach. You don't have to love me, all the time. Whatever on earth possessed you to make this bold decision. I guess you don't need me. While whispering these words I cried like a baby hoping you would care."

Brian leaned down and switched the radio off. Then he was back in my arms. "I like it better when you sing it anyway."

We danced. Arms around each other, just swaying slightly. I buried my face in Brian's neck and half-whispered, half-sang the words. I felt warm and a little faint. I desperately wished I'd had more than one eggnog. But Brian seemed pleased. He had his hands on my waist, his face in my hair, kind of breathing me in. And he kept holding me tighter.

After the second "Two drifters, off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see," I stopped abruptly. Motionless and silent for a moment. Then I cupped Brian's face with my hands, and, in a tremble-y voice, I said, "I need you. Now."

Brian froze. He didn't even appear to be breathing. Then he said, "Do you mean…"

"Yes. Now."

"Please."

Fluffy white snowflakes swirled against the windows with a whoosh and a flutter. The Christmas tree lights hummed and blinked red, green, blue, and orange in the darkness. And, on the bearskin rug in the living room, I gave myself to Brian. Completely. (Yes, I know how sappy that sounds. Suck it up.)

But that's a story for another time.

TBC…(yes, I know; I'm evil).


	32. Chapter 32: Defining Moments, Part 2

Defining Moments, Part 2

Prom

Brian, Mikey, and I were sitting in Deb's kitchen at the table, on which four plates sat (Vic was at his new boyfriend's house).

Brian and I had dinner at Deb's sometimes, mostly when we were light on food money, which generally happened every month after we paid rent (sometimes also after we'd just paid bills). Sometimes more often (when one of us made some outlandish purchase). You'd think it would be my fault, with me being the artist and all (rather than the soon-to-be lawyer). But it was almost always Brian's. As it was, money was always kind of tight for us. But Brian just couldn't live within our means. He'd buy 15 pounds of fancy shrimp, which cost almost a week's worth of food money, and we'd polish it off in two or three meals. Okay…so in that scenario, I share some of the blame. But I would never buy 15 pounds of fancy shrimp. Or salmon.

And Brian spent way too much money on his wardrobe. I shopped at thrift stores, which Brian wouldn't be caught dead in. All his clothes had to be brand new and, whenever possible, designer.

And…Brian spent way, way too much on furnishings. Last month, we ate at Deb's every night for two weeks because he bought some weird-looking lamp, which cost him a hundred and fifty bucks. It kind of looked like the top of a lantern, only huge, and with openings at both ends. It was silvery-white and made of cloth. The design was interesting, no doubt about that, but the lamp cost way too much and didn't give off much light.

Brian said I was cheap. I argued that I was frugal.

This time, Brian spent his portion of the month's food budget (and some of the next) on a white bearskin rug. I almost made Brian return it. Almost. I was so pissed. But then he offered to pose on it for me … naked. And well, I'm only human.

So we were at Deb's for dinner (tonight and we probably would be every night for the next month). Deb was scooping big spoonfuls of spaghetti onto the plates she'd set out.

A black and white kitty cat clock (one whose eyes and tail move back and forth as the seconds pass) was ticking.

Clunk. Clunk.

Clunk. Clunk.

Clunk. Clunk.

Clunk. Clunk.

(Deb had just asked a question, one none of us wanted to answer). After about 20 clunks, Deb said, "You _have_ to go to prom. It's a milestone."

Brian countered, "Maybe for you and other straight people. Asking a girl to go…buying a corsage…renting a limo…hoping to go 'all the way'…which of that has meaning for us?"

Mikey gazed at me hopefully for a half-minute or so before turning toward Brian.

Yeah, I'd pretty much been aware of Mikey's crush since day one; the mooning was hard to miss. I couldn't explain it, but Brian actually seemed jealous of Mikey, a fact I'm ashamed to admit I used to my advantage, many, many times.

Mikey shrugged and looked down. Then he said, "We could bring guys…start a new prom tradition."

I was trying hard to play it cool, to not look at Brian the way Mikey was looking at me. Fearing that that was impossible, I looked down at the table. I was torn…the idea of actually going with Brian had my heart beating a mile a minute…but what if we decided to go with guys, and he didn't pick me? I had no real hope that he would … except … none of the guys Brian fucked seemed to mean anything to him. He could never remember their names and only talked to them until they 'put out,' as Deb would have phrased it. Then he was onto someone else. In fact, his 'trysts' never lasted more than one night. I highly doubted that he'd want to spend an evening slow dancing with another guy. Course, that didn't mean he'd want to spend an evening slow dancing with me.

A few moments later, unable to stand the suspense, I peeked back up at Brian.

Brian had arched an eyebrow. When he realized that Mikey was serious, he hissed, "No fucking way! You wanna get dragged from the back of someone's pickup truck? Cause I sure as fuck don't!"

Deb snapped, "Watch your mouth!"

Normally, that would have made me jump (her yelling usually did), but I wasn't 'all there.' I was trying to figure out whether Brian's unwillingness to take a guy to the prom was a good thing (I didn't exactly want him to go with someone else).

I offered hesitantly, again trying to play it cool, to make my voice nonchalant, "Well…the three of us could go together. Everyone knows we're friends. We could ask a girl or two to dance … the rest of the time, we could just hang out …"

Brian snapped, "What would be the point? Proms aren't just for dressing up…they're for dancing with someone who means something to you."

I turned to face Brian, my eyes widening. I didn't mean anything to him?

Brian shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, it's not like we'd be dancing with each other, if we go as friends."

I breathed a little easier. "I guess you're right. The only girl who means anything to me is Daphne, and she doesn't even go to our school."

Deb set the pot (of spaghetti) back onto the stove. So hard that it clanged. Then she hissed, "What about me? You saying I ain't a girl…."

I turned bright red. "Ummm…"

Her comment initiated a seriously uncomfortable silence (a full minute). Mikey's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he was looking at me sympathetically. Brian, on the other hand, was looking at me in amusement, smiling. Fucker. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, Deb laughed and patted me on the back. "Just fucking with ya, kid."

Brian grinned and nudged Deb. "Watch your mouth. There are impressionable kids in the room."

Deb didn't reply. Not in words. Instead, she hit Brian in the back of the head. He cried out, "Oww!" but ended up laughing. We all did.

Brian was probably right about prom being a bad idea. What would be the point if we couldn't dance with each other, if, in fact, we had to dance with girls. Still…I kind of wanted to go. Dress up. See Brian dressed up. I knew he'd look amazing.

At the time, a few weeks before prom, I never would have guessed that Brian and I would end up there together, sans Mikey, albeit occasionally dancing with girls.

And dealing with the nuisance of ditching them after the song ended. Brian was cruel. To his latest dancing partner, he said, "You want something to drink?"

She blushed and smiled. "Sure."

Brian grinned and pointed. "The punch bowl's right over there."

The girl let out an indignant gasp and then stomped off.

I chastised, "Brian!"

"What? How'd you get rid of yours?"

I colored slightly (my cheeks were suddenly so hot). "I told her I had to go to the bathroom."

"And I bet you actually went in, too."

"Who says I didn't have to go?"

"You weren't in there long enough even to piss."

"Oh…you saw me?"

I nodded.

"Then why ask? To torture me?"

Brian just grinned.

TBC…


	33. Chapter 33: The Prom continued

How did we end up here?

Don't fucking ask me.

I was completely opposed to the idea of going to prom. It was utter bullshit.

Guys and girls dressing up in gender appropriate clothing, coming two by two in normative heterosexual pairings…embracing the capitalistic market (one boy and one girl, those who performed their roles best … the best male athlete … the prettiest cheerleader ... those with the greatest market value would be selected as the best of the assembly).

In fact, with pomp and socially accepted pairings worthy of a wedding and the expectation of sex (tacitly condoned by parents and teachers), it was truly a rite of passage.

The boys and girls would have learned how to perform their gender roles … learned their place in the pecking order … grew to honor the ideal of beauty and normalcy … coupled and _coupled_.

In that way, they would have shown that they were ready to be adults and let loose in the world.

(Thank you very much, Ms. Fredrick, the English teacher Justin and I had this year … she was the only English teacher to do a critical thinking section on advertising and the media … and Deb had us primed for that).

None of that had anything to do with Justin and me or even (especially) Mikey. We were gay…and Justin and I weren't exactly performing our assigned gender roles correctly. We did housework … we cooked … we didn't play sports. As two guys living together, we had to redefine what it meant to be guys. And … our unique friendship … it wasn't sexual … but it wasn't totally platonic, either. I mean, I wanted to fuck Justin. I can't even say how much. I'd jerked off to thoughts and images of him many, many times. I still did. And our relationship involved feelings and (shock of all shocks) physical displays of affection: We hugged, we did what one might call 'snuggling' on the couch while watching TV, and we even slept in the same bed sometimes.

Going to the prom was the worst kind of hypocrisy.

But …

Justin wanted to go. One glance, without even looking into his eyes, which were conveniently averted throughout the entire conversation (at Deb's), and I knew Justin wanted to go. He wanted to go so badly that a few minutes later, he actually said as much…

That alone didn't do it.

It was only when Justin declared much later, all pissed off (and beautiful), that if I didn't want to go that was fine, but that he and Mikey were gonna go.

Oh hell no.

Justin and I were back at our apartment. It went like this.

Justin took off his shoes, in silence, and very slowly, mechanically, all the while staring out into space. I pretended to be interested in food (I wasn't. We'd just eaten) … moseying over to the fridge and staring at its contents while keeping an eye on Justin in my peripheral vision. I knew the discussion started at Deb's was far from over.

After several minutes of shoe removal and fridge staring, Justin asked, softly at first but picking up speed with every couple of words, "Brian, are you really that opposed to going? It might be fun if the three of us hung out…" At the end, he was no longer hesitant, downright chipper in fact.

I shut the fridge door and swung around, crossing my arms and glowering a little before replying caustically, "What part exactly is supposed to be fun?"

Justin started playing with the cuff of his sleeve then. The hesitation was back, but the excitement hadn't yet fully receded. "You know … getting all dressed up … listening to music … and ummm …" (three beats of silence) "… drinking punch …"

I quirked an eyebrow, the amusement on my face barely concealed (my eyes were no doubt bright, and I was smiling, even though I was trying not to).

"Screw you, Brian!"

That I expected.

"If you don't want to go, fine! But I'm going. With Mikey!"

That I did not.

What was especially maddening was the glint in Justin's eyes before he spun on his heel. It was like he knew he'd made a slam dunk. But he couldn't know … No. No. Course not.

So … Justin stomped off to his room, and I started plotting. Not right away. I stood there gaping for a minute. _Then_ I started plotting. If Justin were going, he was gonna go with me. And Mikey was gonna be as far from the pink crepe paper and balloons as humanly possible. Couldn't take any chances. Justin might actually like the way Mikey looked in a tux (it was unlikely but possible). Couldn't have that. No fucking way. As it was, they shared a comic book obsession and projects … That alone worried me.

The question was how to shake Mikey off … and agree to go with Justin without seeming to want to.

Actually … if I could get rid of Mikey … my other goal would be easily achieved. Justin would, after renting a tux and purchasing a ticket, be all desperate if Mikey had to bow out. Then I would graciously step in … albeit reluctantly. Justin would probably nudge my shoulder with his and smile that beautiful fucking smile of his … and in a sexy purr ask me nicely … maybe beg a little. Yeah. I'd say no a few times and then finally begrudgingly agree … and I'd get an armful of happy Justin. Perfect.

Some first thoughts …

1. Feed Mikey walnuts (I vaguely recollected him freaking out after eating a bite of Waldorf salad Justin had made for dinner one night—yes way, way too often we had the 'pleasure' of Mikey's company when the dork shit ran long).

2. Pay one of Brandon's colleagues to briefly 'date' Mikey

3. 'Accidentally' shove him into a poison ivy patch

4. Push carrots on him until he turned orange

5. Feed him cookies laced with a laxative (yes, I occasionally baked cookies…chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin)

6. Instigate a fight between him and Justin

7. Break something of Deb's and frame him

8. Spray paint something offensive on the principal's door and frame him

9. Get him stinking drunk and bring him home after curfew

Are you waiting for me to say that I rejected all nine ideas … opting simply to find some stupid comic book conference for him to attend instead?

Well…if so, you'll be waiting a long fucking time.

Shocked?

Ha!

Did you think I was noble? By all outward appearances a jerk, but deep, deep down a kind soul?

Fuck you.

I get what I want, whatever it takes.

okay…

so

there's one exception.

My kryptonite.

Whatthefuckever. Didn't change anything. I wanted Mikey out of the way, and I didn't much care what I had to do to make that happen.

TBC…


	34. Chapter 34: My Own Private Hell

A great many things happened in between our tiff and prom. Looking back, I'd have to say we were scared little faggots. We lied to each other and to other people but most of all to ourselves.

Justin and Mikey spent a week and a half with their heads together, planning what they would wear, their mode of transportation, strategies for keeping their (theoretical) love of cock secret (theoretical because both were virgins), and ideas for making the event memorable (taking acid, playing pranks, and/or nominating each other for prom king).

I had ideas of my own. But I had to wait until at least the night before the prom to put any of them into action. And the wait was proving to be intolerable.

It's like he knew. Knew that Mikey's touching him (at all—even a hand casually laid on his knee or on his shoulder), him and Mikey's having their heads together (usually talking about their next comic book), or fuck Mikey's just sitting next to him, knew that all these things individually or together made me want to kick a puppy on the way to punching a baby (Relax Polyanna. It's just a figure of speech). Yes. It's like he knew. Because he started touching Mikey (he NEVER did that before). He'd ruffle his hair and smile at him, his crystal blue eyes twinkling. Fucking seriously. He'd brush his hand against Mikey's. Squeeze his shoulder. Bump into him gently. And Mikey was eating it up. I'd never seen him smile so much. And he constantly acted like an excited puppy (very like the one I wanted to kick). Jumping up and down (literally) and drooling (figuratively), nearly pissing on the floor. I half expected him to roll onto his back and beg for a "tummy rub."

So yeah, I was pissed. Livid pretty much every second of every day. And I did what any insanely jealous teenage boy would do in that situation.

I took to inviting guys over when I knew they had plans. And the encounters I had grew more and more outlandish as the days passed.

Six days before prom … I left my door partially open and pushed guy #1 to his knees. And when Justin passed by (on his way to the kitchen), I rasped, "That's it. Suck my dick. Oh fuck, yeah. Harder. Harder." Justin turned three shades of red and dropped his glass. It clunked and rolled all the way back to the couch. Best yet, his entire body flushed (well, what I could see of it) and his breath caught in his throat. Fuck yeah. I came so hard I nearly blacked out.

I fucked guy #2 deep, first hard and fast and then slow. Painfully slow. I fucked him the way I wanted (desperately) to fuck Justin. I thrust into him for almost an hour (and so hard at times that the bed knocked loudly against the wall) before I came. Then I walked out into the living room on my way to the kitchen, wearing only a pair of shorts and covered in sweat. I took a long pull off of a bottle of water and grinned at Justin (who looked stunned and something else … something that caused my cock to stir a little), completely ignoring the guy. Guy #2 scurried away half-dressed, his shirt and socks balled up in his arms. I guess he was embarrassed. But then, Justin got me back. Recovering (his color and his voice), he whispered in Mikey's ear and giggled. I set my jaw.

Guy #3 rode me. On the bearskin rug in the living room. Justin and Mikey walked in, carrying groceries (Justin had invited Mikey to dinner). I didn't stop guy #3, and he was oblivious to their entrance. He just moaned and writhed. I didn't know Justin was in love with me. I didn't even know he wanted me. (Though, seriously, who doesn't?) I just knew that my "whoring around" annoyed him, and I was angry.

Jealous.

Hurt.

And very frustrated. You wouldn't think so with the amount of fucking I was doing, but wanting something (or someone) you know you can't have .. wanting it (or him) with growing intensity for 3 or more years … it wears on you. Makes everything (every person) that (who) isn't what you want almost a joke. A mockery.

I was taking a roundabout way to the lunchroom. I'd snuck out to the tall evergreens back behind the track and field building to have a smoke. And to think. Mr. Green, my _Participation in Government_ teacher, had been quoting John Locke during the last period. And it had an effect.

Part of me was deriving the most incredible—and fucked up—satisfaction from forcing Justin to see me with other guys. To push him to participate, no matter how indirectly, in my fucking. I wanted him to see me naked and sweaty, to hear me breathing heavy, to watch as I slid my cock in and out of some guy's ass. I wanted him to see me pounding guys, one at a time (yes, more than once in the last three days, I'd considered bringing two or three home). And I wanted to witness the flush in his cheeks and his wide surprised eyes … to hear his own ragged breathing

"_[The state of nature] though this be a state of liberty, yet it is not a state of license." _

I was perverse. Justin was my best friend … and … something else, something more. I knew how wrong it was, but part of me didn't want to stop.

Yet I did.

There was no guy #4.

Why?

I wasn't sure I knew.

Clearly, my recent conquests were having an effect.

"_And thus, in the state of nature, one man comes by a power over another…"_

Justin was hurt somehow by my behavior. And turned on by it. I was starting to think that Justin might have feelings for me. Beyond friendship. To think that he was more than simply appalled (with my having offended his romantic sensibilities) by my tricking (as usual) and my turn toward exhibitionism (that was new).

I was beginning to think he was jealous.

"_[But not] absolute or arbitrary power…according to the passionate heats, or boundless extravagancy of his own will…"_

Part of me wanted to push Justin until he _really_ reacted. Force him to … I don't even know. Do something. Say something. The potential payoff, just thinking about it, even now, caused me to feel … something that was half-tickle, half-orgasm. Like I was at the cusp of something wonderful. And terrible.

I wasn't sure what it was exactly that stopped me. Not until PIG today.

"_[Man] has not liberty to destroy himself." _

The air was damp. The sun had just re-emerged from behind an angry—swirling—gray mass. A bird, a blue jay, chirping happily in a sapling, jumped from one bough to another, and sent several small pools of water, which had been collecting on the wide expanse of its leaves, down. Onto my head.

"Fuck!" I moved closer to the middle of the path (leading from the track and field building back to the high school building), shook my head, and ran my fingers through my hair.

The night Justin walked in on me and guy #3, he didn't speak to me.

We didn't watch TV together on the couch before bed, Justin's head on my lap or both of us sitting up with my arm around him.

And the next morning, he didn't wake me up with coffee and drag me to the diner.

He didn't even _go_ to the diner.

I was frustrated, hurt, and angry. And I wanted Mikey to drop out and Justin to ask (beg) me to go with him.

"_[Man] has not liberty to destroy himself." _

But none of that was worth losing our friendship. I needed to be the person Justin, uh, "sat with" on the couch.

Fuck it. Fuck it. These are my thoughts, privy to no one else.

And what was it that the fat old guy said? "To thine own self be true."

Fuck it. Why not?

I needed to be the person Justin _snuggled with_ on the couch. There, I said it. Well, thought it. The person he hugged. The person he slept next to sometimes. The person he ran to (breathless, chest heaving) when he had good news. The person he ate dinner with every night. The person he trusted more than any other. The person he whispered secrets to in the middle of the night … about how his parents, particularly his father, had made him feel … about what it meant for him to create … to have a chance to be an artist. To be out (at least most of the time). The person who'd danced with him (the person he'd drunkenly kissed) one snowy Christmas night.

The person he danced with at prom.

I sighed.

_The person he danced with at prom._

I didn't want to lose what I already had. And part of that was the question. The maybe.

So…

I asked him.

I fingered the thick piece of paper in the pocket of my leather. My ticket. I stopped, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Then I started walking again. But this time, I picked up the pace. I needed this to be over. For us to be us again.

Two minutes later, I burst through the double doors leading into the building (and into the lunchroom/auditorium). I stopped. I smoothed my jacket and caught my breath. No way was I doing this anxious.

I emptied my expression (I hoped).

Then I scanned the room for Justin. I found him easily enough: He was, unwittingly, walking my way, carrying a tray made of thick yellow plastic. I grimaced. The tray held a bowl of yellow-orange soup (I guessed cheese soup—it always, always, smelled like feet) and a tuna fish sandwich.

In three (cool) strides, I made it to Justin's side. I stepped in front of him. He ignored me at first (pretended to not to see me) and tried to move around me.

I was undeterred. I grabbed his tray, tossed it on the metal slide-through thing (from the lunchroom to the kitchen), and pulled him by the wrist outside.

He complained, "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

I harrumphed. "You'll thank me later."

That was the only complaint he made, and he wasn't struggling to get free. But when we reached the parking lot and I stopped and pivoted, he wrenched his wrist free and crossed his arms. Still … he didn't turn and leave.

I hesitated for three beats.

Was I really doing this?

I pulled the ticket out of my jacket pocket and held it out in front of him (in one fluid motion). Apparently, I was really doing this.

Justin just stared at me blankly.

Okay. Not the reaction I expected.

I cleared my throat and explained. "I want to go."

Justin dropped his arms and blinked slowly. But still said nothing. Was still frowning at me. What? He could read the print on the ticket from where he was standing. Did he need me to say it?

I waited. No words. More frowning.

Apparently, he did.

"I want to go."

"…"

"To the prom."

"…"

"With you … and uh Mikey."

Two seconds later, Justin was in my arms. "Really? Oh my God. We're gonna have sooo much fun!"

And that was it. All was forgiven. Forgotten.

Or so I thought. But that wouldn't come back into play for a few more years.

And my anger, hurt, and jealousy dissipated. I couldn't see or feel anything but shining blue eyes and a blindingly bright smile. Sunshine.

"So … where are you taking me for lunch?"

TBC…


End file.
